Columbia.

All I could think about for the next week was water. It's such a simple thing - a basic necessity for living, a refreshing treat on a hot day, not nearly enough of it that's clean throughout the world. Yet the way it rushed through my city and reeked so much havoc is astonishing. You never realize how powerful water can be until you watch video after video of dams breaking, roads collapsing, houses destroyed.

All I could think about for the next week was my city. Twenty three years of my life lived there. It raised me, that city. From that wild, fearless little girl running amuck through the streets with friends  { both imaginary and real } - to that lost and confused high school girl who thought living in Columbia, SC was the worst thing that could ever happen to her - to the suddenly independent college student who discovered a sweet appreciation for not only her new-found freedom but also being so close to home - to the girl who moved to another country and grew an even deeper love of all her hometown had to offer. All this suddenly underwater...it's enough to take your breath away.

All I could think about for the next week was my neighborhood. The streets I rode my bicycle down as a kid nearly brought to ruin. The houses I used to play in with friends rotting in the aftermath of mildew and mold. The safe, beautiful neighborhood that I know like the back of my hand suddenly chaotic and messy. I look at pictures of streets and houses and yards and it doesn't even look real. It doesn't look like my neighborhood anymore. Memories I haven't touched in years flood my mind - of running free until dark, of exploring under the bridge, of jumping on that trampoline, of races down that hill.

All I could think about for the next week was my house. That house is all I've ever known. I've had many different homes over the past years but nothing has brought the same feeling of security and love as pulling up to my little dead end road to see that tan house and crooked driveway. In the midst of the transitions of college and post-grad and fundraising and over seas living, comfort was always found waiting for me on that back deck overlooking Lake Katherine or on that sofa snuggled up by the fire place or in that room where the sunlight spills softly through the window.

And now? All I can think about is hope. The response to the destruction that has happened in Columbia, SC is overwhelming. Even being so far, I can feel the love that is being poured over that city - from those on the outskirts and from those within. People bringing gallon after gallon of water, bag after bag of donated clothes, box after box of supplies. I hear of people walking around neighbors that were flooded - passing out food, lending helping hands to strangers, giving time and energy and sweat to clean up all that is ruined. I see relief funds being set up for people who have lost everything, volunteers coming to wash clothes for free, families adopting other families until they can get their feet on the ground. Even in the sadness and the disbelief and the overwhelmingness of it all - hope raises its little head among the brave and the courageous and the fearless - those so willing to dive into the mess of it all. So I thank you, Columbia, for showing what true hope can look like in the midst of tragedy. Forever to thee, Carolina!