Hell or High Water
Snow-day misadventures, though Hell did not freeze over.
That desire to do that surpasses all else. That willingness to overcome any obstacle in order to do.
Do what? Well, darling, that’s up to you. And isn’t that half the battle, deciding the thing that is to be done?
Sometimes the doing is simply survival. The obstacles? They’re neither the ones sought nor anticipated. They simply are.
Sometimes the doing is with great expectation. That action taken with conviction that the doing itself—though difficult or boring or tedious or vexing—will bring dreams to Life.
Sometimes the doing is with Joy. For it is the doing, itself, that is the thing to be done. Simply. For the sake of. Doing. There, Joy resides.
The phrase Come Hell or High Water clamored about in my head: Hell sounding like a bit of adventure, High Water reflecting the slightly treacherous road ahead.
Last Friday, we in Atlanta woke to no small amount of snowfall. At least, so it felt to us.
Obligatory snow photo. Hey Atlanta friends, you know you took one. Or twenty. Or so.
Recall Atlanta’s Snowmageddon a/k/a Snowpocalypse? In January 2014, just under three inches of snowfall in the Metro Atlanta area caused what the media declared the “rush hour from Hell.”
Early that morning, there were winter storm warnings. But no one took it seriously because, well, winter storms just didn’t happen here. That, and the storm came in sooner and faster than expected. As a result, everyone working in town vacated our office high rises. At once. Mass exodus in an already gridlocked city? Not recommended.
One of many. Many. Memes on the subject. Ah, social media — what did we do before you?
Even today, there is no consensus on the Snowmageddon statistics. But roughly, here’s a snapshot of that day: snow and ice left many stranded on the roads, some who stayed with their vehicles for more than 20 hours and others who walked for miles to get home; there were over 1,500 crashes and up to 13 deaths.
In short, roughly three inches of snow shut down the city. Georgia’s then-Governor Nathan Deal’s understatement summarizes it well: “Obviously, there were errors.”
It is with this Snowmageddon context that we packed Sia (my little Audi), loaded the dogs into the back, said a prayer, and put it into drive.
Last Friday morning we woke to, yes, three whole inches of snow. The perfect day to stay nestled in with snuggly dogs and a good book. Alas, as the winter storm moved across the southeast, the club volleyball tournament hosts in Rock Hill, South Carolina remained undeterred. Competition to begin Saturday morning—a couple hours later start time, to be on the safe side. Huh?
Text after text rolled in from teammates and parents. Snow-bank lined interstate images, scenes from their windshields. “Roads look pretty good so far ….” All-passenger selfies. “On our way, wish us luck!” Such selfies taken from the comfort of massive four-wheel drive Chevy Suburbans, those preferred by parents in the outer suburbs—not unlike the in-town Lincoln Navigators, the chosen chariot of Lulu-clad Buckhead baseball mommas.
As the mid-morning sun turned the snow into temporary slush, Mackenzie and I exchanged The Look. It’s now or never. Let’s get out in case the ice sets in. Deep sigh. Even deeper prayer. Nervous laughter! We and the dogs hopped into our well-traveled sedan, one-third the size of those strong and steady SUVs. Rock Hill, here we come ….
The tournament would go on, Come Hell or High Water. And so would we.
As we merged onto the yes-it’s-fine-for-now interstate, I wondered. “Come Hell or High Water.” What foul-weather tale birthed that phrase?
It was first recited in an Iowa-based newspaper in the late 1800’s. Burlington was an important river port along the railroad route that ran from Chicago and across the Midwest. Intense spring rainstorms caused the Ohio River to flood towns from Cincinnati to St. Louis. The effects were “devastating.”
Thank you, Google. Curiosity assuaged, I’ve pondered this quote.
Since that time the best of my friends had become enemies and strangers have become friends. The devil had broke loose in many parts of the country and keeping up with the old saying, we’ve had unrevised hell and high water, and a mighty heap of high water, I tell you. - Burlington Weekly Hawkeye, May 1882
Oh, how we’ve lost the elegance of language from that era. Beautiful phrasing from another time. Shall we take it bit by lovely bit?
On friendship. “Since that time the best of my friends had become enemies and strangers have become friends.”
If you have been so fortunate as to weather Life’s storms, then you know. Friendships. These will change. In the most unexpected ways, lifetime friendships wane. Tragedy. Conflict. Cultural shifts. Divergent interests. Or simply, changed circumstances.
Sometimes, these will divide us. If we were physically caught in the tumult of water, tossing us farther and farther apart, at some point we would quit reaching for one another. Either so focused on our own struggle, we cannot attend to another’s. Or upon reaching higher ground, apathy or even disdain for those in struggle may spill over. Farewell, empathy, save those blessed few who reach a hand back despite the risk. And so it plays out in Life.
The same waves that push us away pull us in. Into strangers. Strangers with whom, in the struggle, we become bonded. And friendships are formed, sustaining us as we are moved into a new phase of Life.
On chaos and divide. “The Devil had broke loose in many parts of the country.”
No matter one’s political leaning—indeed, on this very eve of the Presidential Inauguration, it goes without saying. But I’ll say it anyway. Since 2020, once could certainly say with some reflection, “the Devil had broke loose.”
I could list the ways. The events. The things. The national pain points. But you already know them. And goodness knows, there’s grave societal risk to even raising these . . . much less espousing an opinion on them.
See, the Devil does his best work by dividing us. Health crises, the so-called and the actual. Disasters, natural and man-made. Political discord. Social injustice. Mental debilitation. Financial unrest. I’m right. You’re wrong. Fuck off.
Just when we need one another most. When we begin to see one another as The Devil? That is the Devil’s playground.
When will we realize how very much we need one another? Differences of opinion, and all.
On the worst it gets. “Unrevised Hell.”
The 1882 newspaper article’s author turned a catching phrase. “Unrevised Hell.” That is, Hell in its original form. Unaltered. Unchanged. As hot as it gets, baby!
Original Hell brings us, of course, to Original Sin. That Christian doctrine declaring that all humans enter this world with a sinful nature. Natural-born sinners, we are. (Are we?) Thanks to Adam and Eve, and mostly Eve of course. Come on now, she might have tempted but he gave in . . . . But I digress.
Have you, Dear Reader, ever experienced Unrevised Hell? Then you’ve been refined by the fire. Come what may, now you will move through Life with a Peace that passes understanding.1
Are you currently in Unrevised Hell? Take Heart, Dear Reader. You’ll emerge a bit more charred than you might like. But with Wisdom. Discernment. And Faith that can move mountains. Beloved, nothing will be impossible for you.2
On being in deep. “High water, and a mighty heap of high water, I tell you.”
The saying goes, “come Hell or high water”—meaning we will overcome the obstacles, whatever it takes.3 But the 1882 author penned “hell and high water.” Now that was a tough spot indeed!
We’ve all been in deep water. And we will be again. Some situations are just tricky to navigate. Especially when the boat’s sprung a leak and it’s going down. Keep bailing. Just. Keep Bailing.
And when the boat finally goes under, hold fast to the inimitable words of Dory in Finding Nemo, “Just keep swimming. Just keep swimming. Just keep swimming, swimming, swimming.”
All’s well that ends well. Or so said Shakespeare.
Yes, of course Mackenzie and I made it to Rock Hill intact, dogs and all. Not without at least one misadventure. But as my son reminded me last night, “travel with you is a series of misadventures, Mom.” And Parker happily recounted them all over dinner. We were there a while ….
On the topic of Hell or High Water, I’ll leave you with this.
Moderate lamentation is the right of the dead, excessive grief the enemy to the living. - All’s Well that Ends Well, William Shakespeare
May we mourn our losses. But may we not become mired in the memory of what was. In the aftermath of Hell and High Water, may we embrace our growth and celebrate the unexpected paths now cleared. For storms, they do clear paths.
Photo by Karson Michael at the 2025 Southern Power tournament. Perhaps aptly named, though the drive certainly had the potential for Southern Folly, that in which we are well versed down here. My baby is the nearly-six-foot angel third from the right. It’s a strange sensation, looking up at your child! Equally as strange, she says, looking down at your momma.
Know this: As with the U.S. Postal Service, “neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night” will deter a volleyball mom. Just sayin’. I learned from the best, Allison Gilmore and Tina Krebs!
Dear Reader, I wish you a beautiful week. How I do Love wading through this Life with you. XO, Ash
“And the Peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall guard your Hearts and your thoughts in Christ Jesus.” Philippians 4:7 (ASV). How the Bible verses from my childhood return to mind, un-summoned and ever-present.
“Truly I tell you, if you have Faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you.” Matthew 17:20 (NIV). And you thought this concept originated in 2006 with pop-Spirituality’s The Secret! Before The Secret. Before the Bible. It didn’t originate; it simply Is.
Ashley, you are a genius with words and messages. Thank You so much for being someone that makes life better for others, such a gift.