Gratitude in Devastation

On the night of September 26, 2024, I was jolted awake by the sound of heavy rain and howling winds as Hurricane Helene unleashed its fury on Western North Carolina. Moments later, the power flickered off and faucets stopped flowing. What initially felt like an inconvenience quickly turned into a life-altering event. 

The last text message I received before cell service failed came from a member of my congregation: “I’m scared. Our house is destroyed. One dog is missing. We’re waiting to be rescued. Please pray.” The raw vulnerability in those words encapsulated the gravity of what we were facing. 

Helene left a trail of destruction: landslides, floods, uprooted trees, entire towns demolished, and tragically, lost lives. The picturesque landscape I’d known was suddenly unrecognizable. Roads were impassable, blocked by fallen trees, debris, and decimated power lines. Without electricity, running water, or cell service, life as we knew it was upended. Yet amidst the devastation, something remarkable began to unfold. 

Finding Connection

Neighbors, many of whom I had only exchanged pleasantries with before, emerged from their homes. Stripped of distractions like television and the internet, we turned to one another. Conversations that began with, “Are you okay?” evolved into sharing meals, resources, and stories. Connection replaced isolation, and collaboration became our strength. 

On the third day, I could finally venture two miles to Unity of the Blue Ridge, the church I serve as minister in Asheville. I found the church property battered but not broken. The five youth classrooms we had lovingly remodeled earlier in the year were water-damaged, and the kitchen showed signs of water intrusion. Yet amidst downed trees across our property, the small RV where our groundskeeper lived remained untouched, as though shielded by an invisible force. 

A Mix of Heartbreak and Relief 

As news trickled in, it brought a mix of heartbreak and relief. The congregant who had texted me was rescued, along with the missing dog, though their home was destroyed. Yet the storm claimed the lives of the operations director at our sister property, along with her two young children and fiancé. And there would be many more losses. 

Hospitals, overwhelmed with patients who had no homes to return to, repurposed empty schools as makeshift care facilities. I volunteered as a chaplain in one of these shelters, where I encountered stories of unimaginable loss. One man, overcome with grief, wept, “Why did I survive and not my wife?” The collective sorrow was overwhelming, but so too was the resilience, support, and humanity I witnessed. 

“In All Things, Give Thanks ...”

Each evening, I returned home to the stillness of candlelight. One night, with a heavy heart, I picked up my journal and wrote, “In all things, give thanks ...” This scripture bubbled up from my Pentecostal upbringing.  

This ancient teaching holds profound wisdom but requires an essential distinction. It invites us to give thanks “in” the midst of all things; it does not ask us to give thanks “for” all things. Gratitude does not necessitate that we ignore, bypass, trivialize, or engage pretense.   

Growing up, I was taught to say thank you as a demonstration of good manners. But there were times when my gratitude was hollow, a mechanical response to something I did not truly appreciate. Over time, I had to learn to move beyond the mechanics of saying thank you and connect with the true spirit of gratitude. 

True Gratitude

True gratitude cannot flourish in pretense; it must arise from authenticity. It is not about denying pain or glossing over hardship. The spirit of gratitude whispers, “You are in this world, but you are not of the world. Yes, you are having this experience, but you are more. This experience cannot overcome your Spirit, your Higher Self. All that I AM is greater than anything in this world.” 

The spirit of gratitude reminds us of our essential being and the unshakable truth that sings, “It is well with my soul.” It allows us to hold grief and goodness simultaneously, to acknowledge what is lost, while cherishing what remains. Beyond the transactional idea of being grateful for something, we open ourselves to being grateful from an awareness of what is ultimately true. As Ralph Waldo Emerson is often credited with saying, “What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us.” 

Helene, like all of life’s storms, was indiscriminate. Storms strip away distractions, and if we are open and willing, they reveal what is true and what truly matters. They push us to rediscover our true Self and our capacity for compassion, connection, creativity, and courage—in the midst of it all. For that, I am truly grateful. 

This article was excerpted from the Unity booklet, The True Spirit of Gratitude.