When I first heard there could be a massive storm brewing in the Gulf, I didn’t think much about it. After Idalia, I couldn’t imagine anything worse. Hurricanes rarely impacted inland areas with the ferocity Idalia brought; surely we’d never see anything like that again in my lifetime.

     And then came Helene—a fast moving category four storm that made landfall in Taylor County. Keaton Beach was decimated. Entire homes on high pylons completely eradicated by the twenty feet storm surge and high winds. The storm kept moving through Taylor County and headed toward Madison, while also impacting Dixie, Lafayette, Suwanee, Hamilton, and Jefferson before making its way into Georgia and beyond.

     The winds shook homes, broke windows, ripped off roofs, hauled off carports, uprooted trees, and snapped power poles. As I tried to sleep that night, the eerie howl of Helene funneled under the eves and through the hollow of our front porch. Other than the tornado off 1988, I’ve never been so intimidated and frightened by a storm. I couldn’t imagine any more trees than what Idalia took down. Helene came in and finished what Idalia started.

     Madison is our four-stop-light-town over sixty miles from the Gulf coast. People move here to get away from the big town rat race and settle in a safe, rural community. We don’t worry about hurricanes. We buy enough snacks, bread, bottled water, and toilet paper to get us through a few days without power and cross through another hurricane season on the calendar. But these last two years have made me realize no one is exempt from natural disasters.

      I’m thankful, like I was last year, to ride out Helene in our wonderful little community of Madison. Food, water, tarps, ice, medical units, and comfort stations dotted the community as linemen, national guard, and emergency response teams filled the streets. People with personal saws and tractors were and are hard at work helping each other and needs are shared between volunteer groups to find the best solution.

     I heard someone say that we are blessed to live in a community where we aren’t trying to protect our own from our neighbors or afraid of being robbed. Color doesn’t matter. Neither does age. Nor status. Or anything else. Madison County is known as a community that takes care of their own. Even the linemen from other places comment on our hospitality and genuine care. They see and receive.

     Even though some homes had severe damage, as I drove around the county, so many were spared. Trees barely missed hundreds of homes. Outbuildings caught some damage, but lives were spared. We may have repairs to make, but we still have breath in our lungs. God’s not done with us yet.

     Madison County, we are strong again. And better than ever. Let’s link arms, lock hearts, and work together to rebuild our community and repair our lives. Stay encouraged that this is only a season. We can overcome. And we will.

And as we overcome, let’s pray for our neighbors to the north who are struggling to completely rebuild their lives after losing whole towns and hundreds of people. While we have been spared, those places in North Carolina and East Tennessee are fighting to survive. Let’s not only be Madison Strong, but also United States Strong. Let’s pray hard as we rebuild our eastern states.