Faith and Action Drive Disaster Recovery in WNC: 'Stop Looking at the Piles and Look at the People,' Spokes of Hope says
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BAT CAVE, N.C. — “Stop looking at the piles and look at the people.” With these powerful words, Shane Zoccole captures the mission of Spokes of Hope, a faith-based disaster relief ministry quietly rebuilding lives long after media attention has moved on.
Ten months after Hurricane Helene unleashed catastrophic floods across Western North Carolina, Chimney Rock Village still bears the scars. Washed-out roads, damaged businesses, and families trying to put the pieces back together—these are the realities that linger long after FEMA trailers have rolled out. But in this small mountain community, something else has taken root: a faith-fueled movement of neighbors helping neighbors.
At the heart of this effort are Shane and Floreme Zoccole, founders of Spokes of Hope, whose disaster relief journey began not in WNC, but in Horry County, South Carolina. In 2018, Hurricane Florence flooded over 1,300 homes near their hometown of Little River. The Zoccoles, active in their church but with no prior experience in crisis response, felt compelled to act. With little more than a Suburban, a trailer, and a freezer powered by a generator, they began distributing food to families who had lost everything—including electricity.
That small act of obedience would eventually grow into Spokes of Hope, a nonprofit rooted in the Christian principle that God never leaves His people—and neither should His followers. Their approach is deeply relational. “The mistake people make in disaster is thinking they’re running toward the destruction,” Shane said. “But the real disaster is in the heart.”
Over time, the Zoccoles became known in national faith networks, including those connected to the Trump administration’s Faith and Opportunity Initiative. They were encouraged by mentors like Pastor Paula White, then spiritual adviser to President Donald Trump, who urged local leaders across the country to meet needs beyond church walls. While Spokes of Hope is not politically affiliated, the Zoccoles say they’ve been inspired by that same spirit of hands-on service—and by biblical teachings about finishing what you start.
A New Chapter in the Gorge
Now deployed in Chimney Rock and the surrounding Hickory Nut Gorge area, Spokes of Hope is coordinating rebuilding efforts alongside local volunteers, Amish construction crews from Lancaster, Pennsylvania, and mountain natives like Jake Jarvis, a heavy equipment operator who was recently named “America’s Hardest Worker” by ConEquip Parts.
The partnership is personal. Jake’s excavator work made it possible to stabilize a home known to volunteers as the “Yellow House,” perched dangerously on a hillside.
Nearby, in Chimney Rock Village’s business district, which relies heavily on tourism, saw 14 storefronts damaged in the flood. One-third of the village’s parking capacity was wiped out. Long after outside aid tapered off, Spokes of Hope remained.
When Chimney Rock Village reopened their parking lot and some businesses, the Zoccoles moved their base of operations to Red Anderson Road in Bat Cave, where they were invited to stay by the Becker family. They’re now repairing multiple homes while living among the families they serve.
On May 9, Jarvis said, “I started building the new center of operations for Spokes of Hope on Red Anderson Road. The Amish are going to live in tiny homes here for the summer as they rebuild the area. I’m also grading out a lay-down yard for the materials they need here.”
Precision Grading and the Amish teams brought the craftsmanship. The Zoccoles brought the connections, logistics, and prayers. Together, they’re restoring not just buildings, but community.
“When we say our God will never leave you or forsake you,” Shane said during a recent radio broadcast, “then we can’t leave either. We stay until the job is finished.”
The Legacy of Florence, the Lessons of Helene
Looking back, the Zoccoles say they’ve learned that disaster recovery is more than logistics—it’s spiritual. Their time responding to Hurricane Florence introduced them to a national network of volunteers and ministries who respond with no strings attached. Shane reported from the White House Faith Office in April. Now they’re paying that forward in Western North Carolina, offering everything from sheetrock to spiritual support.
They call themselves “faith responders”—working alongside first responders, but focused on healing the long-term wounds that no chainsaw or backhoe can fix. Their mission echoes the White House’s call during the Trump era to mobilize faith groups as part of national resilience efforts—an idea that drew both praise and scrutiny, depending on political perspective.
But for the Zoccoles, politics isn’t the point. “This is about obedience to God,” Floreme said. “We’re here because He sent us.”
How to Help
The recovery effort is still underway. Volunteers, donations, and supplies like lumber and fill dirt are urgently needed. But more than anything, the Zoccoles say, communities need unity.
“When neighbors start knowing each other again, when churches work together instead of competing—that’s the blessing,” Shane said. “Psalm 133 says that God commands a blessing where there is unity.”
And if you ever find yourself on Red Anderson Road, know this: the people rebuilding there didn’t wait for the news cameras. They stayed. They served. And through faith and perseverance, they’re turning devastation into something beautiful.
Cops & Congress Commentary
Almost Home: Reflections on Red Anderson Road
In early summer 2020, my husband, our dog, and I nearly moved to 109 Red Anderson Road. It was the height of the pandemic, and like many families, we were searching for peace, space, and a stronger sense of community. The location was perfect—tucked away in the gorge, close to Chimney Rock, quiet, beautiful. But as it often goes in life, the timing didn’t work out. Our home in another state hadn’t sold quite yet, and before we knew it, the door closed. (The home still stands today, and the property was subdivided, records show.)
Now, five years later, I find myself reporting on that very road—not as a homeowner, but as a journalist witnessing the slow, faithful rebuilding of a flood-struck neighborhood. And I can’t help but wonder what it would have been like to live there, to ride out the storms and the stillness in that place. (I’m about 40 minutes east near Lake Lure in Rutherfordton near the Broad River.)
Red Anderson Road isn’t just a dot on the map anymore. It’s a symbol of resilience. Families there are opening their homes to relief teams. Volunteers are building more than walls; they’re building trust. They are making that street stronger than it was before.
Sometimes I think about what would have happened if we’d made that move. Would we be knee-deep in drywall and river mud, working shoulder to shoulder with people like those faith responders? Maybe. But here’s the deeper truth: you don’t have to live on Red Anderson Road to be part of its story.
Whether we’re writing checks, writing articles, or writing to officials asking for better flood mitigation, each of us has a role. My near move reminds me that proximity isn’t everything. Purpose is. And when people show up—not for a photo op, but to stay until the work is done—that’s where the real restoration happens.
I didn’t move to Red Anderson Road. But part of me lives there anyway.