Lessons From The Hardest Season
I’ve always believed that when life gets unbearably hard, there’s a lesson hidden somewhere in the struggle. I’ve had my share of hardships and growth, but nothing could have prepared me for this season. When you’re deep in the mud, it feels impossible to imagine anything good growing from that place. If you’d asked me what I was learning while I was in it, I probably would have offered a snarky remark—because sometimes, it’s just plain hard.
But when the floodwaters recede and clear sight returns, the lessons begin to emerge. I write this for future me, as a reminder of what I discovered in this challenging time, and for anyone else walking through something that feels insurmountable. May the wisdom and growth reveal themselves when the time is right.
Community is Everything
I live in what I like to call a “purple place”—a blue dot in a sea of red. But when disaster hit, none of that mattered – we were united. In the face of devastation, political differences faded away as neighbors showed up for one another with grassroots efforts that brought hope and relief. We shared food, resources, and hard work. These are the people I leaned on when times were unimaginably tough, and I’m profoundly grateful for the trust and connection that carried us through. We took good care of one another.
The Basics are Precious
Washing dishes with warm water feels like a day at the spa after two months without clean, potable water. It took weeks to restore electricity, reliable cell service, and internet. The infrastructure we rely on daily is an incredible feat of engineering—something I’ll never take for granted again. It’s humbling to realize how much we depend on the basics: light, water, heat, and communication.
Our Earth is Sacred and Fragile
I never imagined I’d see mountains move until I watched it with my own eyes. A flood that reshaped the landscape served as a stark reminder of how the Blue Ridge Mountains were carved over millennia. We live in a delicate dance with Mother Earth, and it’s both an honor and a duty to care for her. She’ll heal and endure without us, but we’ll never survive without her.
Make Plans, but Hold Them Loosely
As a lifelong planner, I map out my days, months, and years with intention and purpose. But this season reminded me to hold my plans gently because life can—and will—throw them out the window. Learning to respond moment by moment, to flow with changing circumstances, is a beautiful and necessary practice. Life’s rhythm is one of ebb and flow; the more flexible we are, the easier it is to navigate unexpected turns.
Practice Generosity—It Breeds Connection
In the first hours of realizing the scale of devastation, we took stock of what we had and gave what we could. Practicing generosity connected us deeply to others, brought immense gratitude, and reinforced the importance of community. It’s a reminder that when we show up for one another, hardship becomes a little more bearable.
When the Slate is Wiped Clean, Dream into Possibility
The hurricane leveled my town, leaving behind unimaginable destruction. Yet, one of our community leaders remains more hopeful than ever. Because of the groundwork and vision that existed before the storm, we now have an opportunity to rebuild—better, stronger, and with intention. When your whole world changes, it opens space to create something new. Progress takes time, but step by step, something beautiful can emerge.
Whatever You Want to Do, Just Go for It
When disaster strikes, you’re reminded of life’s fragility. Nothing is guaranteed, and that truth can clear the noise and show you what really matters. If you’re waiting for the “perfect moment” to chase a dream, don’t. The time is now—create the thing, start the blog, launch the workshop. The present moment holds everything you need.
This season has taught me to find beauty and possibility in the hardest places.
Grief and gratitude coexist here, side by side. If you’re in the thick of it right now, I hope you remember: life will shift again, and lessons will emerge when the time is right. Until then, lean on your community, practice generosity, and trust that even in the mud, something beautiful can grow.
If you feel moved to help with the rebuilding of my town, you can donate here.
