A Year After Hurricane Helene: Reflections on Resilience
- Admin
- Oct 9
- 3 min read
By: Tiffany Fant | October 13, 2025
Living in Charlotte, about 200 miles inland from the Atlantic Ocean, I remember how distant hurricanes often felt. It was something that happened to other people, somewhere else. The strongest storm I experienced here was Hurricane Hugo in 1986. We lost power for several days, sat in long lines at fast food restaurants, and conducted life by candlelight. But compared to the devastation Helene caused in western North Carolina, our hardships were small. We experienced inconvenience, not catastrophe.
Last year, I had the opportunity to step in and help Cornerstone Summit Church establish a resilience hub, a place where people could gather for support, supplies, and a sense of community during and after crises. Even with my background in disaster relief and community engagement, this experience was eye-opening. I quickly realized that resilience isn’t just about reacting to a disaster; it’s about preparing, connecting, and reimagining what recovery looks like.
Lessons from the Storm
The work in Boone and surrounding areas after Helene taught me three powerful lessons that continue to shape how I understand climate resilience and environmental justice:
We have to expand how we think about privilege and equity. Recovery isn’t the same for everyone. This is a phrase that I often use and it is usually in reference to Black people. But here I was in the mountains of North Carolina where the population we were serving were either white or Spanish speaking, yet the disparities were still the same. The “seasonal” homeowners had the access to get resources and information to rebuild whereas those whose families had been in the mountains for generations relied on institutions and communities for survival.
Disasters can spark innovation. In moments of crisis, creativity often shines. Communities find new ways to share resources, communicate, and care for one another. As a hub, we received all kinds of donations with dry ice being the most puzzling. Though we did not have immediate use for dry ice, it became the solution to keeping meds cold such as insulin. I had never thought about the intersection of disaster and medical issues in this way.
Prepared communities are resilient communities. Resilience doesn’t happen by accident—it’s built long before the storm arrives. It starts with relationships, shared plans, and accessible resources. When people know where to go, who to call, and how to support one another, recovery happens faster and more fairly. I made the call to my brother, Pastor Reggie Hunt of Cornerstone Summit to check in and his response was “Sis, I’m overwhelmed!” Essentially, I said “Say less” and I was one way to Boone after just returning from Nairobi, Kenya the day before where flood waters caused devastation and massive loss of life. Pastor Hunt had a heart to serve, space, and relationships but he needed someone to help coordinate. With coordination and preparation, Cornerstone has been able to serve seven counties consistently since Hurricane Helene.
Moving Forward
Helping to create a resilience hub reminded me that rebuilding isn’t just about returning to the way things were. It’s about creating something stronger, fairer, and more compassionate. As climate disasters become more frequent and more intense, we can’t afford to treat resilience as an afterthought. It has to be woven into the fabric of our communities through local partnerships, sustainable planning, and collective care.
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