10/09/2026
Ten years ago yesterday, Hurricane Matthew hit our community.
By the time it reached us, it was “only” a Category 1 hurricane. We’d weathered plenty of storms before, and while we knew this one would be unpleasant, we had no idea just how dramatically our lives were about to change.
Because the worst of Matthew didn’t come when the storm arrived. It came after the storm had passed.
The rain was relentless, but initially manageable. Then the floodwaters from upstream began making their way down the Cape Fear and Lumber Rivers toward the coast. Levees breached. Our water treatment infrastructure was overwhelmed. And by the end of Sunday, I-95 was completely submerged and impassable.
No electricity. No running water. Roads washed away. Families trapped in their homes. Gas supplies dwindling. And an overwhelming sense of uncertainty about what tomorrow might bring.
I remember the fear. I remember the helplessness. And I remember how unsettling it was to realize just how quickly the everyday comforts and conveniences we take for granted could simply disappear.
Those are memories that will stay with me for the rest of my life.
But thankfully, they aren’t the only memories.
I also remember watching something extraordinary happen in the midst of all that devastation.
Neighbors became lifelines. Strangers became friends. People who had lost so much themselves somehow found the strength and compassion to help others. And people from far beyond our community stepped forward, offering whatever help they could, whether in person or from hundreds of miles away.
In the middle of so much destruction, we witnessed an incredible amount of goodness.
Looking back a decade later, I don’t think the most lasting impact of Hurricane Matthew on my life was the fear I experienced or even the devastation I witnessed.
It was the gratitude that grew out of both.
Gratitude for a community that refused to abandon one another. Gratitude for the countless people who answered the call to help without expecting anything in return. And gratitude for the reminder that, even when so much of what we depend upon is stripped away, the very best of humanity can still shine through.
Ten years later, I remember the floodwaters. I remember the destruction. And I certainly remember the fear.
But more than anything, I remember the people.
Of course, we had no idea that our so-called “once-in-500-years flood” would be followed just 23 months later by Hurricane Florence. Apparently, Mother Nature had a rather loose interpretation of statistical probability!
But that’s a story for another day.
Today, ten years later, I’m simply grateful for the people who helped us weather the storm — and for the enduring reminder that the strength of a community isn’t measured by what it can withstand, but by how its people care for one another when everything else is falling apart.