We live in a unique, beautiful community called the Outer Banks. I've been thinking a lot about legacy and heritage lately. I've been observing rapid change in our string of small towns that make up the OBX. Like so many who call this place home, I came here looking for rest.
By definition, I’ve been a local for 20 years, but as any true “Outerbanker” knows, you’re not considered a real local unless you were born and raised here. My husband, Noah Snyder, fits the bill—or close enough. While he wasn’t born here, he’s been here since he was just three months old. Both Noah and his father, Rob Snyder, have become a deep part of Outer Banks history. So, I think we can safely give them “local” status. 😊
As for me, the first time I ever heard of the Outer Banks was when I was 18 years old—a freshman in college in the frozen city of Minneapolis. My roommate, a performance major, had heard about a summer program through the drama department.
“They’re going to North Carolina. To Nags Head, specifically,” she told me. “They’re looking for interns and performers to put on a musical for the summer. And there’s a beach there! We should totally go!”
I had to laugh. I didn’t even realize North Carolina touched the ocean! I actually didn’t believe her and pulled out a map to check.
Sure enough, there it was—a tiny chain of barrier islands stretching along the coast.
I never dreamed this southern, beach community would one day become my home!... I LOVE this place!!
I could go on and on about my first summer among the dunes, but it’s not the point of this story—or maybe it is?
I should tell you that, at that point in my life, I was in a tough place. My dad had passed away less than a year earlier, and I was lost—emotionally and spiritually. I felt backed into a corner and knew I needed to make some drastic changes.
But I didn’t know what to change or how to start. So, like so many before me, I ran... to the Outer Banks.
My thought was, If I could just put some distance between myself and my world for the summer, maybe I could find the strength I needed to move forward. I never dreamed this southern beach community would one day become my home!
I remember Pastor David Daniels saying, “Once you get your toes in Outer Banks sand, it’s hard to get it off!” He winked as he spoke, and let me tell you, nothing has been more true for me.
I love this place! Its beautiful beaches and small-town charm, its adventurers and artisans, its love, its peace. The Outer Banks is a place where artists find inspiration and music is celebrated. It is a place where entrepreneurs and restaurateurs build their dreams. The history here is rich, and the future… well, that’s a bit uncertain.
We’ve got a double-edged sword on our hands.
On one side, tourism is the lifeblood of the Outer Banks. Everyone here relies on vacationers and investors spending their money so we can afford to live on this sandbar. Most of us understand this and are deeply grateful.
On the other hand, this beach-driven industry is starting to destroy the very thing that supports us all: this physical place—the beaches, the dunes, the quiet stretches, the seagrass.
More and more, the sounds of seagulls calling and waves crashing are being drowned out by overdevelopment. The hunger for more is beginning to overwhelm the provider.
Tourism is often referred to as “the hand that feeds us.” But I say, the arm connected to that hand is this fragile sandbar we call home. If we destroy the arm, the hand becomes useless.
Whether or not you feel connected to the natural wonder that is the Outer Banks, one thing is clear: the moment it ceases to be a natural wonder, all the money we depend on—the money we all want and need—will cease as well.
I hope people will understand the importance of making choices that aren’t just good for their immediate pocketbooks but also for the heritage of the Outer Banks—for our home, our kids, and our grandkids.
We can’t allow this beautiful place to become like an overcrowded amusement park, filled with concrete trees and artificial grass. A place that’s fun and profitable for a visit, sure, but one you’d never want to live in.
Let’s protect the heart of the Outer Banks—its natural beauty, its unique charm, and the peace that makes it special—for generations to come.
We need to protect and preserve the history and natural surroundings of this place. The heart and the soul of the beach.
I want to remind us of our first love—the Outer Banks as she used to be. A place of natural beauty and charm. If we’re not careful, she could end up looking like a woman with one too many nips and tucks. She might still have all the right ingredients for beauty, but somehow, the beauty itself would be gone.
We need to protect and preserve the history and natural surroundings of this place—the heart and soul of the beach.
I’ve heard it said that the Outer Banks is a lighthouse. As far back as our history goes, these barrier islands have been a refuge. A place to start anew. A place to rest. A place to launch dreams.
For some, it’s even been a place to hide—Blackbeard, Native Americans, the Lost Colony, the Wright Brothers. Not all of these stories are happy, but there’s a common thread: people have always sought refuge here.
I can only imagine what this place looked like 200 years ago—or even 100 years ago. I know how much it has changed in the 22 years since my first hopeful drive over the Memorial Bridge.
Many—myself included—have come to the Outer Banks seeking redemption. To fix what went wrong elsewhere. To regroup, refresh... rebirth a new life.
Not everyone finds what they’re looking for, but the spirit of this place seems to call out: “Come, all who are weary, and I will give you rest.”
If you’re a local, you might be scoffing at this. Rest? HA! I’d hardly call the Outer Banks summer hustle restful!
True, true. But think back for a moment. What brought you here? What brought your parents or grandparents here?
Rest isn’t just a physical state—it’s also a state of mind. It’s a choice.
...when one of ours is struggling or facing a crisis, we rally. We rally like blood!
I found something here that I never could have anticipated: a community, a village, a family.
This community has its flaws, its underbelly—just like anywhere else. It’s no utopia. But when one of ours is struggling or facing a crisis, we rally. We rally like blood!
I’ve had the privilege of participating in this rally and have witnessed its power firsthand—the power of selfless love, of sacrificing what we have to better someone else’s life. It’s nothing short of extraordinary.
What brought you to the Banks? And what can we do, as a community, to preserve the soul of this place?
There are so many who are already doing this, every single day.
You enrich the Outer Banks when you follow your dreams and share them at a local gallery, an open mic night, or through a small business. When you learn to surf or buy fresh fish at the local fish market.
You preserve the spirit of this place when you build a memorial for a fallen child, paddle out to honor a lost friend, or meet at the local coffee shop and spend your money small.
We honor the Outer Banks when we pick up our trash after a great beach day, protect the innocent by using paper instead of plastic, and celebrate the quiet beauty of this fragile sandbar we call home. Each of these choices is a vital piece of our way of life.
I dream of buying historical houses and saving them from extinction, of creating more ways to serve our community, and of doing my part to protect and preserve this place—for today and for generations to come.
It's no secret that I'm a Christian, and I believe that only Jesus saves. I do believe he has used this safe place for my heart, the blessed Outer Banks, to give me and many like me a harbor and a place to find new life. God Bless this Redemption Beach and welcome home.
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