It's That Time of Year

When I begin yearning for

cool, misty mornings;
fog covered mountains;
daily circle-ups;
early morning drives to the hardware store;
12-passenger vans and old beater-trucks;
a diet of entirely too much fried food and junk;
wearing jeans, a tie-dye shirt, and bandanna or hat;
sleeping on an air mattress in a school classroom;
late-night meetings;
early morning photos;
group devotions and prayer;
peanut butter and jellies;
getting to know complete strangers;
hours of laughter, jokes, frustration and tears;
fresh produce from roadside stands;
winding, curvy roads;
trips to the dump;
t-shirts;
cookouts;
hug time;
theme days;
dogs and cats galore;
bluegrass music;
constant construction talk;
party-beds and The Breaks;
happys and crappys;
county fairs and local celebrations;
new friendships and relationships;
beautiful scenery;
dilapidated homes;
content, joyful, and loving people;
nightly trips for ice cream;
singing with the staff;
simplicity;
The Porch.

It's that time of year, when thousands of people flock to the Appalachian Mountains hoping to make a difference.

You may have guessed, I'm talking about the Appalachia Service Project (ASP). Another summer program has gotten under way with the training of the Summer Staff Center Directors (CD) starting 5 days ago. Tomorrow the rest of the staff will join them, and the first volunteer group will arrive in a mere two-and-a-half weeks. For the past four summers I have been a part of that staff, and this morning when I looked at pictures of CD training online I felt a small pang of jealousy and a large amount of sadness that left me feeling mildly depressed as I drove off on my hour-long commute to my 8-5. I can't explain how much my body ached and my heart tugged as I longed to be on The Porch training for another summer of service to ASP. Even now as I write this, my throat is tightening and my eyes are watering as I try to fight back the sadness I feel. I've never been able to put into words what I experience when I look at a picture of a crumbling home set against the beauty of a lush, green Appalachian mountain. In fact, any picture of that region, or of the people I met and worked with there, conjures up a flood of emotions that ultimately leaves me feeling pure joy, but also ironically sadness. More often than not, I want to burst into tears and run back there as fast as I can. Maybe the best way to say it is that I fell in love with Appalachia and left a piece of my heart there when I left. I think that piece of my heart will always be there.

That place and time changed my life.