Lessons about loss, living, and loving together

I live in Tigerville, S.C., which is a rural crossroads of about 2,100 residents nestled in the southern foothills of the Appalachian Mountains. It is home to North Greenville University, where I work as a professor. Tigerville is part of the Greenville metropolitan area, which includes around 568,000 people. But like so many of the smaller communities in the region, Tigerville is its own place with its own people and its own history.

We aren’t used to hurricanes here, though occasionally we catch the outer bands of a storm that hits the coastal part of the state. We knew Hurricane Helene was a huge, fast-moving storm that would affect much of the Southeast. We expected heavy rain and moderate winds. But we had no idea that the storm would turn and pass directly through our area during the early morning last Friday until a few hours before it happened.

By the time Helene had passed through the Greenville area, more than 1 million South Carolinians were without power. This included every resident in Tigerville and the other small communities around us. There was no internet service. Some had no cell service, either. Almost every river and creek in our region was flooded. Countless trees were down, many of them on top of houses, sheds, and vehicles. There was chaos all around. Yet, we soon learned that the damage and loss of life was far worse for folks just a half-hour north of us in the western North Carolina mountains.

Though the storm was devasting, I’ve been encouraged to see the people of Tigerville caring for one another during this time. We are a farming community. So, it was no surprise when residents grabbed their chain saws and other equipment to help clear fallen trees in the neighborhood and then loaded up their pickup trucks to remove debris. Some folks also drove to nearby communities where there were similar needs.

The Tigerville Café offered free meals to the community on Monday. The North Greenville University cafeteria not only fed the approximately 100 students who remained on campus following the storm but also fed dozens of faculty and staff members who live nearby, as well as people from the community. The meals were free. There was also a good bit of food-swapping, depending upon who had the means to cook which items. Everyone would rather bless their neighbors than have their food go to waste.

The university set up a generator in the student union building, inviting students and people from the neighborhood to come in and charge their electronic devices. One family even plugged in a Crock-Pot to cook a roast and vegetables! Once the power came back on, the school invited faculty and staff who were still without power in their homes to return to the office, not to work but to charge their devices and check their email.

Fuel was a problem for several days. Some gas stations didn’t have power, while others ran out of gas. Long lines of cars would wait at any station with working pumps. It was overwhelming at first, but, of course, neighbors came to the rescue. When someone would find a gas station with reasonable lines, they would text everyone else to let them know.

Groceries were also a problem. Many stores had to implement cash-only policies because their card readers wouldn’t work without power. Others had a run on food, leading to empty shelves. As residents of Tigerville ventured out to area grocery stores, they texted details and even offered to pick up food for others. They did the same as restaurants began to reopen.

On Sunday, Tigerville Baptist Church, which was without power and had a huge tree down on its front lawn, gathered to worship outdoors. The interim pastor reported that the church had its largest attendance in years. Students and community residents worshiped together. They thanked God for His mercy and prayed for those who had suffered more significant losses because of Helene.

Tigerville is a special place, but I don’t think we are unique. I’ve read similar stories about other communities throughout the Southeast that have banded together in response to the storm. In his stories about the fictional town of Port William, Ky., Wendell Berry calls the community’s residents the membership. I love that image. The people in Berry’s stories understood that they belonged to one another and to the place itself.

Americans are at their best when they remember we are a nation of communities, where neighbors are known and look after one another. When our communities come together to respond to a tragedy, we are reminded that people and place matter. In such times, the neighbors whom Jesus calls us to love really are our neighbors.