Support in Community
November 7, 2024 | Brent Walsh, Program and Engagement Manager
Dear Friends,
The massive dust cloud loomed in the near distance, swirling and churning. It moved steadily toward my fellow motorists and me, the sky primed for destruction and looking for a fight. We had nowhere to go but straight into its nefarious arms.
A dust storm is frequently underestimated until you’re in the thick of it. Visibility can drop to zero in an instant, making it impossible to see road signs, other vehicles, or the very road you’re trying to stay on. You don’t notice the tree that’s been yanked from the ground until it’s summersaulting toward your windshield. Sharp objects and particles get lifted like weapons, sandblasting against anything in their path. It’s an angry display of the wind’s fury, flipping cars and threatening life and limb without a second thought.
None of this was lost on our cluster of about twenty cars and trucks as we crept cautiously down the highway. When the storm finally enveloped us, the wind gripped our vehicles and shook them violently as we huddled together, our four-way flashers keeping rhythm with our quickening heartbeats. Tangibly, it was hard to say what safety our convoy offered, but emotionally, it was everything. Together, our visibility was magnified by the chorus of flashing lights, and my semi-trailer offered a trace of shielding for the smaller cars against the onslaught of debris. None of us would have chosen to navigate this terrifying storm, but now that we were in it, we did whatever we could to brace for it, endure it, and reach the calm on the other side.
When I looked at the news the Wednesday after the 2024 election, I felt that same surge of dread, bracing for another storm that threatened to topple me over. The results hit with the same force as that wall of dust, obscuring hope, and battering us with an intensity that left many of us feeling disoriented, even stranded. In moments like these, it’s easy to feel alone, isolated in the chaos — but just like that day on the highway, we don’t have to face the storm alone.
As a community, we’re stronger when we huddle together, when we look out for each other and amplify each other’s light. It might not fix everything right away, but it gives us enough visibility to stay on the road, enough courage to hold steady even when the winds rage around us. This election left many of us feeling pummeled, but when we lean on one another, our collective resilience becomes a buffer, something that helps us weather the turbulence as we push forward.
Like the convoy, we didn’t choose this storm, but here we are — and together, we’ll find our way through it. By lifting each other up, sharing resources, and staying close, we can weather these rough roads, reach clearer skies, and keep building a future that reflects the kindness, justice, and resilience we value. The storm may be fierce, but our community is fiercer. We’ll make it through, one mile at a time.
