A trip to Appalachia: Serving in Harlan County, Kentucky

Harlan County, Kentucky, is unlike where I live. Just five hours north of this unique area where I call home, neighborhoods and apartment complexes fill nearly any open land, and restaurants and businesses consume the rest. Interstates are filled with cars as people make their morning commute to jobs that range from manufacturing to finance, construction to healthcare. Here, there is a busyness about life, with people rushing to get from place to place.

Harlan County is different. In Harlan County, the rolling hills of Appalachia go as far as you can see, scattered with trailer homes and the occasional restaurant. No one is in a rush here; life is slower. People know their neighbors and have family scattered throughout the County. They have lived here their entire lives – few people leave. But there is little economy here. In fact, Harlan County is the second poorest county in the United States, a land known for abundance. What used to be an area booming with work at the coal mines now has little to no jobs, impoverishing the people who grew up here and call Harlan home.

I was first introduced to the area in 2019 on a church Mission Trip where we brought Christmas gifts and food for the residents. This Christmas, I was once again blessed to serve this community in the same manner. The spirit and faith of the people here that touched me four years ago once again reinvigorated me. This is a special place.

On our first day of the mission trip, we headed to Loyall’s City Hall to sort through the donations we brought with us. The City of Loyall is approximately 1.4 square miles with a population 1,491 people. City Hall was in an old school that was in rough shape – the majority of the building was not heated and the commercial size freezer in the kitchen did not work. The old school also doubled as the police station and more. In addition to its icy temperature in December, it lacked warmth. The walls were either white or faded, chipped paint that looked decades old. Its facade matched the lives of many here – in shambles but filled with love.

The city’s Mayor was eager to greet us and help coordinate the giveaway for the residents. He was a simple man, sporting jeans and a plaid shirt, but filled with great faith and passion to help the people in his community. Our group spent the next few hours sorting the goods we brought – organizing and bagging 700+ bags of food for Christmas dinners (chickens, potatoes, vegetables and more) as well as cataloguing the multitude of toys for the children. It was a group effort, and I loved watching our high schoolers find joy in the monotony of the task. Everyone’s arms were tired from carrying heavy bags or performing the same motion over and over at their station, but they didn’t complain. They found energy in their togetherness, and consistently demonstrated their inclusivity of every classmate on the trip throughout the weekend, something I’d love to see more of in our youth.

After a long day, we headed back to the local church, our home base for the trip for worship and rest. As I worshiped with our high schoolers that evening in the small chapel, revival stirred in me. This group of passionate young people had a faith far greater than my own. They had relationships with the Lord that were fervent. As I watched the Holy Spirit move through them and everyone in the room, I passionately felt that this group could change the world. They could revive the world, the Catholic church, and good families alike. Revival would start here. Their fire, their love – it would spread. It would change people.

Oh, how I couldn’t wait to learn from them this trip and let their fire ignite my candle that had been burning dimly lately. How I could not wait to encounter and pray with the people of Harlan County the following day to stretch myself and reopen my eyes to a community in need in my own backyard. How I couldn’t wait to hear their stories and bring them a little joy this Christmas. As I headed to my accommodations for the evening, a sleeping bag on top of a 2-inch mattress in a cold, preschool classroom, my heart was full. There was more warmth in that room than in the rooms of my home. For in this room, there was a fire that would soon spread to set the world on fire.


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