Lead Me Home - A Tribute to My Mountain Home and Those We’ve Lost

Councilman Blount’s Newsletter 10-6-24

For the past few days, a song has been running through my head, circling again and again as I thought about the lives lost in the mountains of North Carolina during Hurricane Helene. The song is Lead Me Home by Jamey Johnson, a powerful reminder of peace and rest beyond this world.

But this disaster hits me a little differently. While I have proudly lived in Greenville, SC for almost two decades now, the North Carolina mountains have always been my home. I grew up in Valdese, NC, just at the base of all the mountains that are now being tended to. I’ve driven those mountain highways my entire life—long stretches of road that wind through valleys and rise into peaks that seem to touch the sky. These places, these roads, have shaped me, and to see them battered by this storm is deeply personal.

I have family and friends still in those mountains, many still waiting for help. Some have lost everything, others are just beginning to pick up the pieces. This isn’t just about a neighbor State in need—it’s the lifeblood of where I come from, the very roots that nurtured me into the man I am today. These mountains taught me resilience, taught me to face life’s toughest battles, and that’s why I choose to stand strong even when the world around me sometimes feels like it’s crumbling.

It had been over ten years since I last sang Lead Me Home, not since I recorded it online in memory of a band member’s father. The song resurfaced recently in my mind, and I couldn’t shake the feelings it gave me. So I went up to the studio, hit record, only thinking about the people lost in those mountains—the ones that lived and loved with my family, my friends—gone but not forgotten.

I imagined them up there, looking down on us. The mountains of North Carolina have always had a spiritual pull, proof that God exists, and a sense of timelessness. I truly believe their spirits are still part of that today. They’re watching as communities come together to pick up the pieces, knowing that in time, they will rebuild. They’re smiling, proud of the resilience they see in the people they’ve had to leave behind.

There’s something powerful about seeing people unite after a tragedy. The mountains have been through storms before, and they always stand tall afterward. It’s a reminder that we can too. The ones we’ve lost would want us to press on, to rebuild with love and perseverance. We can honor their memory by staying strong and moving forward, even in the darkest times.

When I play Lead Me Home, I don’t just think about those who’ve passed—I think about peace. I think about the calm after the storm, when the weight is lifted and there’s finally rest. The mountains may have scars now, but they’ll heal. And so will we. The ones who’ve gone ahead of us are in a better place, at peace, and I believe they’re still with us in spirit, guiding us as we carry on.

Even in times like these, I’m reminded that we’re not alone. The spirit of God along with those we’ve lost are still with us, watching as we rebuild and helping us find the strength to keep going. Their presence is felt in the very mountains they called home, and as we come together to heal, I know they’re proud.

Psalm 121:1-2 says, “I lift up my eyes to the mountains—where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth.” That scripture brings me peace, reminding me that there’s a strength beyond ourselves that we can lean on, especially when the path ahead feels uncertain.

To those who’ve left us, we honor you. Your memory lives on in these mountains, and we will carry forward, rebuilding and finding hope in the days to come.

Thank you for reading, watching, and standing strong together. God bless. - BBD19