We remember our incalculable loss, on this day.

She is more than a woman resting in a swing. She raised seven kids, but ran away with the youngest two, leaving her marriage to an abusive man. She went to seminary, married a pastor, and will soon be the pastor of her own small church.

Fairhope is a tale of two cities, with sunny sides and dark sides, restaurant owner Pete Blohme said. Blohme owns Panini Pete’s and Sunset Pointe in Fairhope, Ed’s Seafood Shed in Spanish Fort, and Squid Ink in Mobile.

“People struggle here just like anywhere else, but they are hidden away,” he said in an interview before the Coronavirus. “We also have businesses, churches, and organizations that care.”

This “fair hope of success” is the feel-good history of Fairhope, but the untold story is of the black people who go back for generations and who have never been anywhere else, according to the Rev. John Whitfield, founding pastor of New Zion Christian Church.

Ecumenical Ministries, a social services agency in Fairhope, has provided help to low-income families and individuals in Baldwin County for 50 years. Executive Director Sally Dean said affordable housing is the biggest issue for the working poor in Fairhope and everywhere else in the country, but there are no easy answers.

This is humankind’s response to disasters. Southern disasters rip off roofs. They toss church awnings and trailers into trees. They scatter family photos and children’s art around the yard. Sometimes our disasters leave us with little more than the clothes on our backs. But we help our neighbors recover, rebuild, and move on.

As two men walked past the church, one said, "Thank you very much brother. If I don't say it every day, you better remind me to say it."

I don't know what he was thankful for, but I found my own reasons to be thankful for today.

An outlined hand holding a sign that reads, "All Are Welcome," is part of the unfinished and uncolored mural on the wall at Central Presbyterian Church in Mobile. Artist Kathleen Kirk Stoves is waiting for the COVID-19 pandemic to pass to fill it in. The mural is a celebration of community and Kirk hopes the community will one day add the colors that bring it to life.

Hurricanes and tornadoes. We know the destruction of natural disasters and that the worst of times brings out the best in people. When hearts and hands are all we have left, generosity thrives. This COVID pandemic is different and we must stay away from each other to save each other. Those of us aching to help can only stay home. There are many things right now that hurt, but we are finding new ways to come together. We just need to keep John Prine.

On a table in the corner of the Rose Center is a vision board filled with pictures of hopes and dreams for a better life. A picture of “I Want To Be Free” written on an arm. Multiple images of broken chains. A Polaroid camera. A graduation cap and diploma. A house. A community having dinner outside at a long table. The words “If we care about human trafficking, we must care for orphans and foster youth.”

CPAP machines, chords, wires, and tubes. Rachel Smith didn't want pictures of her daughter in the NICU. This was not how Ella Grace's story was supposed to begin. Both mother and daughter almost died in a difficult pregnancy and were rushed from Thomas Hospital in Fairhope to Women's and Children's in Mobile. Rachel was in ICU for two weeks, Ella Grace was in NICU for a month and a half. Wanting to quickly move past a birth and delivery that didn't go as planned, Rachel didn't take pictures during their days in the hospital. A few were taken by her husband, nurses, and friends.

“My story is crazy. I still can’t believe sex trafficking happened to me or that people enslave young girls in Mobile.” 

Michelle said this as she took a sip of coffee at her kitchen table. The house was clean, and all was quiet after she put her son down for a nap.

“But if it happened to me, it can happen to anyone.”