My God Is Still Working

My God is working still, and I am working. God's mercy and promise can be found in the Book of Isaiah. These images of God's goodness are breathtaking, especially as we await spring weather. We are assured of God's mercy.

• We are coming out of darkness,
• There is neither scorching wind nor sun to smite us,
• By springs of water we will be guided.

The psalmist often echoes these assurances of God's justice, telling us that God hears the cries of all creation and saves us. Many times in the Gospel, we learn of the relationship between Creator and Son, of the grace made manifest in God's ultimate gift to us: Christ born on earth, our brother, our savior, our mercy, and our justice. We are assured that we have not been abandoned, that "my God is working still, and I am working."

These readings and images carry me back to the Appalachian hills of Kentucky. I was fortunate enough to be able to accompany nine phenomenal young women who decided to spend spring break performing service for the people living in this part of the country, but I was also blessed in meeting the people of Kentucky, witnessing the Spirit of God embodied within them.

At first glance, however, the mercy and justice of God escaped me when witnessing the poverty in the Vanceburg hollers, the run-down trailers that housed families with young children, abandoned barns that lay in ruin because of unfair crop prices, water riddled with E-coli bacteria piped into homes.

God didn't seem to be at work when learning of the Guess factory that just closed in order to open up shop overseas, taking eight hundred jobs with it, and forcing family members to make a daily two-hour commute to Cincinnati in search of work.

It seemed very dark when hearing stories from a woman who was tied to a post in a barn for days by her husband, who then doused her with gasoline, playing with matches just inches from her soaked body.

Did God really hear the cry of the poor? Where was God working still in the hills of Kentucky?

After spending some time with these grace-filled people, God's work became evident. I heard of family love so strong that to be separated from their own for any length of time kept them in their ancestral homes even amid extreme poverty.

I heard a strong woman, Fay, thanking God for her present life, away from her husband, away from the constant abuse, grateful for each new day, who now counsels other abused women and helps establish them in new homes.

I met Velma, who has lived most of her life with her right leg paralyzed, passing her days in a nursing home, placed there by her adopted children against her will. But she was still able to make me laugh for a solid thirty minutes as she shared her life's joys with me.

Then there was Donald, who once lived in Brooklyn, just like me, who just radiated love. He was unable to walk without a cane because half of one foot was amputated due to complications from diabetes. He was all alone in the world, but he smiled, grateful for all God had given him in life.

I wouldn't have missed Fay's courage, Velma's hug, or Donald's smile for anything in the world.

So today I take the opportunity to thank God for reminding me of God's love for us, wherever we live! Here in New York as well as in Kentucky! I am grateful for the comfort of friendships I experienced that week in Appalachia. I so value those grace-filled people of Kentucky, for witnessing in them God's justice, for understanding God heard their cries and answered them, for seeing light in the darkness, for being served more than I served, for God's work still in our world.