Prepper Camp is the family reunion that I look forward to every year. The last weekend of September, I know I will be amongst my friends, helping others prepare for life’s unexpected twists and turns. Weeks before the event, I started dreaming about being there. As the day gets closer and closer, the anticipation grows. As an author, I have many things to plan before I leave. There are books to order, displays to organize, and classes to make sure I have dialed in. Plus, a good prank is always worth having in-store to razz my friends.

This year was no different. The books had been ordered, the classes were ready to go, the display items were stocked, groceries were bought, and my family was on top of the world. We watched the weather for weeks, and everything was looking good—nothing but sunshine and daydreams.

However, a disturbance in the Gulf started to put everything into question. Living in Texas, we are no strangers to hurricanes. Typically, they hit the coast hard and start losing massive amounts of energy as they move across the land. My brothers and sisters in our preparedness community were watching the same news feed we were, and some began to get very concerned. Some lived in the Gulf and knew the harsh reality of a worst-case scenario regarding hurricanes. Others were not looking forward to a weekend in the rain. Some of our crew decided the risks and conditions were not worth bearing.

However, I had another thought in my mind. I have no idea what will happen to our country after the November election. If this was the last time I could reach my friends across the country, I would not have missed it, even if a hurricane was in the way. At camp, I teach self-defense ant,i-kidnapping, and sexual assault classes. The Lord drives me to share this message with everyone I can. If we chose not to go, I would be letting not only the people who desperately need this information down, I would be letting myself down.

Despite the risks, my family, my friend Ellen from Australia, and I decided to go anyway. On Wednesday morning, we left Texas and headed for North Carolina. The drive across the country was uneventful until we entered Atlanta, Georgia. Then, the rain began. We wanted to travel farther, but the rain was so intense that it obscured the road and made driving dangerous. We pulled up at Love’s truck stop to sleep for the night. If we were going to drive in the rain, at least it would be safer to do so in the morning. We listened to the rain on the roof all night, and the trucks pulled in and out. It made for a restless night, but spirits were still high in the morning.

The rain continued in Georgia, but as we headed north, it relented. I received an email from Rick Austin, the Senior Camp Counselor at Prepper Camp. Instead of setting up on Thursday, like we always do, the organizers decided to set up on Friday and do a delayed start. The risk of high winds was too significant, and no one was looking forward to fishing their canopies out of the lake. As an author, I was grateful because books are not a product that tolerates water.

We quickly made our way to Orchard Lake Camp Ground outside of Saluda, NC. After checking into our camping site, we visited with friends as they arrived. Because we left early, we didn’t prep our pesto pasta for dinner like we usually did. The setup delay gave us plenty of time to cook food in the shelter of our trailer. The light rain had begun, but the awning gave us all a place to hang out while we cooked. After eating some food and sharing it with our friends, we were looking for something to do. We loaded a backpack with beers and headed to the covered pavilion to play some uno. Our friends straggled in, and others joined the game. Our phones sounded with the noise of a severe storm alert, but before long, the cards got put away, the attendee count grew, and memories were made.

Despite the intensifying rain, everyone was in good spirits and looking forward to setting up on Friday. My family and I listened to the pitter-patter of raindrops on the roof. It was loud, and the intensity of the drops increased. Slipping in and out of sleep, the situation outside the trailer grew worse. The wind began to shake the giant trees surrounding us and land on the trailer and the vehicles we parked around it. There was no thunder, but the storm's noise was like thunder that never relented. I tried to go back to sleep, but my phone kept buzzing with the sound of severe storm alerts, and dreams of my youngest son getting squashed like a pancake on the bunks that he occupied in the back of the trailer haunted me. I tried to shake the feeling from my bones, but I knew the trailer would be no match if one of those gigantic trees came down. My only hope was that the three other vehicles packed around it would help create a buffer.

I prayed and prayed for the Lord to protect us. I repeated the Our Father and the Hail Mary over and over. I begged Jesus to keep my boys safe, and I tried to sleep amongst the intense noise. But, the fear I felt for my youngest son didn’t go away. My eldest was close, but I couldn’t imagine waking up in the morning to the nightmare of losing my son. I climbed from my bed and stared at him. He was sleeping soundly, and although I hated to rouse him, I was so scared to lose him. Waking from his slumber, he looked at me with sleepy eyes. Encouraging him to join me, he happily climbed into bed between me and my husband. I tried to sleep again, but the storm’s noise raged outside. The fear and anxiety were overwhelming, but I held on to the hope that we would make it through the night.

The tiny indicator lights in the trailer flickered a few times, and finally, at about 5:30 a.m., they went out. We sat in the dark. The phone was quiet. The cell towers were destroyed, and the internet was lost. The storm raged on, and our trailer faltered in the assault. The moistness penetrated the front of the trailer as the front faltered, and the satellite dish was now leaking water. At least we still had a roof and a mostly dry space.

As the light grew in the skylight, we knew it was time to venture out and assess the damage. I found my friend Doug Hogan in his vehicle. He had survived the storm in a tent hammock. The wind ruined his night, and after getting drenched, he sought solace in his car, which was parked with ours.

We went up to the pavilion and found a disaster scene. The main building had been flooding, and the organizers of Prepper Camp were busy bailing out the water. The campground owners opened a room upstairs for those who ventured up. However, the community was coming together. My friend Jordan Smith was making breakfast for everyone, and more and more people arrived with stories from the night. “Tent City,” where patrons put up tents in a tighter area, had turned into a mud bog with water literally flowing through the tents, and the wind twisted some into pretzels.

Unbelievably, only one tree fell in the whole campground. My friend, Stacy, was missing. The tree had fallen right in the site she was supposed to be camped in! After finding her, we found out that she had felt the hand of the Lord on her shoulder at about 3 a.m. Listening to the warning, she left her camping spot and decided to sleep in her vehicle. That choice saved her life.

We waited for the rain to hold up, but it never did. A gentleman named Pork Chop, a fellow speaker, and some friends had gone up to the road and cleared a small one-lane path to the town of Saluda. News from the outside world was not good. We heard of towns that had been destroyed, flooding, landslides, and damage everywhere. With the one lane open, people trickled in. However, the rain and wind continued. The tents that were supposed to be hosting classes were getting blown away, and it was all hands on deck to ensure they survived. Lights crashed down. Port-o-potties blew over, and the rain continued.

We headed back to our trailer for lunch. I cut up a mess of Kilbasa, cheese, and crackers and invited our friends in to share. The tiny space inside the trailer was not built for entertaining, but we brought them in one by one to share the food. The time to set up had come and gone, but the rain continued. Bored with the delay and exhausted from two sleepless nights, we dozed.

Finally, a knock came at the door, and Doug stood there. He told me the storm had receded, and it was time to set up. We loaded the truck and headed to the field by the lake. It was so waterlogged that we thought the trucks would be lost in the mud. Opting for a minimal setup, we looked out at the empty spots that were supposed to be occupied by other vendors. Speakers, vendors, and attendees struggled to get to the event. The damage had shut down roads, and the lines at the gas stations were already starting to grow. Some folks who had just been there the day before were trapped away from the event.

The speaker’s meeting was sparse as we assessed how we would be able to pull off the event for those who had made it. Rick, our usual presenter, was now wondering if his home still existed and if his animals were still alive. He had left for news. But the community rallied. We had a responsibility to the people and were not about to disappoint them. Jasmine Beyonde, the audio and visual organizer, had the equipment running despite the lack of power and had the magical Starlink so some of us could get messages out.

Thank goodness the campground’s bathrooms were still functional despite the lack of power. Ellen and I took the last two lukewarm showers on Friday night before the hot water heater's propane fuel was gone.

Saturday morning, normal camp activities commenced. My husband made the morning coffee and then walked my youngest son up to the pavilion so he could help dry the chairs. My husband returned for more coffee, and then we walked towards the booth with my eldest son. He left to help guide people into a parking spot. We waited for the parking lot to fill up like it does yearly, but only about a third of the attendees could make it.

I want to make this clear. Prepper Camp is not about making money. My book sales barely pay for the trip itself, and even the organizers barely break even between the cost of the tickets and the cost of hosting the event. The food trucks couldn’t make it in, and the food there was so overpriced that we couldn’t afford it. I barely ate that day, and I only sold two books. It was the worst sales day at any event I have ever been to. However, a small crowd attended both of my classes and were very thankful for the information. If the point of Prepper Camp were money, I would have kicked myself for not turning around in Atlanta. However, that is not what it is about. It’s about educating people and visiting with friends I only see once a year.

Usually, we have a massive event on Saturday night in the big tent. The speakers are recognized, and prizes are given to the guests. Brad from Five Times August plays live music, and there is a keynote speaker. This year was going to be very different. It was a trick to even get the lights turned on. We prayed and gave thanks for our country. The speakers were acknowledged, but there would be no prizes. Brad had his flight canceled multiple times, and when he did make it, he waited twenty hours for a rental car that never became available. The keynote speaker was also unable to make it in.

We returned to our trailer to make dinner and share a few drinks with friends. It was a great night. However, in the morning, the rain returned. When I heard it hit the top of the trailer, my eyes popped open, and I knew we had to get out of there. I felt bad about abandoning my classes, but with all the news we heard, we didn’t know how long it would take us to get out. Our mission to leave began. We had gas in our vehicles, but my husband’s truck uses a lot of gas when he pulls the trailer. We weren’t sure what the route would look like and couldn’t get stuck somewhere with the trailer and nowhere to turn around. We decided to scout the road with the van before the truck ever got moving.

First, we scouted the back road we had come in on. Trees, just waiting to fall, teetered in the air, and landslides annihilated the mountains. Finally, we reached a bridge with a sign that said, “Keep out.” We would not be able to leave the way we came in.

We were going to have to head toward Saluda. After we scouted that route, my husband had some significant concerns. The guys had cleared a lane, but one section, located on a turn, needed more room to get through, and there was no shoulder to rely on. My husband feared that we would take the side off the trailer. Plus, a whole lot of people that were going to need to take trailers through there soon.

Surrounded by a crowd of preppers, we went for help. Only a few people had chainsaws, and those who did had their own problems that they needed to tackle. Time would not be on our side if we had to wait for them to finish their breakdown before we cleared the road. We knew we didn’t have a chainsaw, but we had handsaws in our go-bags, and Ellen had just purchased a hatchet. One of the Prepper Camp staff members gave us a ride up the road, and a gentleman named Morgan, whom we had just met, volunteered to come up and help us. With so many hands to help, we made quick work of the smaller branches and started directing traffic. Morgan was an animal with the hatchet, taking down the larger logs with sheer determination. The large tree was a bigger problem. The strap the Prepper Camp staffer used to try and pull it out of the way snapped.

Then help arrived. A local firefighter arrived with a chainsaw, and after making sure our traffic control was effective, he ate through a chain, cutting that massive log out of the way. One local told me a story of their daughter who went into labor during the storm. They got her out because Pork Chop and his boys had made a path. However, the hospital didn’t have any power. The car left. I couldn’t believe these stories, but finally, the road was clear, and we could finally get out.

Prayer, perseverance, and determination were the game changers. We were all hungry, exhausted, and at a maximum breaking point, but we pulled together to finish off the last leg of the trip. Luckily, by then, one of my friends, Tommy, had already made his way out and messaged us back directions to a clear route. We were finally on the road after saying goodbye for the third time that day.

The devastation we saw on the way out was incredible. We had to drive over down powerlines. The mountainsides were gone. The rivers were flooded. People stood on the side of the road by half of a home, just staring out like zombies. We had no idea of the challenges they were facing, but we knew we didn’t have enough gas to wait in any of the long lines extending from the gas stations. My husband said that he had never seen half of a tank last as long as it did that day, but it got us far enough away from the disaster to a gas station that didn’t have a massive line. It was chaotic, but we gassed up and moved on.

My husband knew the flooding had hit Georgia, but he didn’t say anything as we continued. Luckily, it was gone by the time we reached it, and before long, we were taking a hot shower in a hotel in Talledega. We pigged out on fried chicken and have never been so thankful for a warm bed.

I feel so blessed that the Lord put a protective bubble over the Orchard Lake Campground, but after seeing the devastation firsthand, it is not just a story on the news. This disaster was not just another hurricane in the Gulf. This is bigger than Katrina. There are complete towns that have been completely wiped off the map. Multiple towns will take years to rebuild. There were bodies in trees and floating in the flood waters. Now, so many people are left without food or water; they are desperate. Desperate people do things you would not imagine to keep their families safe. I almost feel bad sitting here in my cozy home, fresh from a shower, smelling dinner cooking in the kitchen.

I talk a lot on my podcast about how the government is not coming to help in a disaster. FEMA’s main job is to get essential services back online. However, communication was gone, bridges and roads were destroyed, and the damage was thick. Citizens must be prepared not only to survive but to help one another. Money doesn’t help in this situation. You can’t eat or drink it. Communities need to have a game plan to set up refugee stations where people can get fed and find shelter. We need to plan to help one another because the earth is changing, and our government is not coming to help.

Things that went well:

• I wear Asolos boots, and they were dry all weekend.

• We had our go-bags full of emergency gear.

• A strong family and a mustard seed of faith can accomplish anything.

• Extra clothes are never a bad thing.

Fails of the weekend:

• Not many shelters, including a trailer, stand up to 18 inches of water.

• Never take a road trip without a chainsaw.

• Never take a road trip without an extra tank or two of fuel.