Finding Myself in the Hollers
When I think of the beginning, I see myself standing on the gravel driveway of a small home in the hollers of Scott County, Tennessee. Our homeowner was a great grandmother, Helen, who had custody of her great grandkids, Chris and Kiana. Our work group’s responsibility was to replace the floors in their bedrooms. At the end of the trip, our group gave both kids bedsheets with different characters on them, and Kiana said, “princess bedsheets, that’s what I’ve always wished for.” Those words– that 8 year old girl and her perspective on the world– changed the trajectory of my life.
So much has changed since my 17 year old self has stood on that gravel driveway, but serving with the Appalachia Service Project (ASP) has remained the same. For those unaware, ASP is a youth-based home repair ministry whose mission is to eradicate substandard housing in Central Appalachia. Though mountain life is oftentimes romanticized for its beauty, according to the Appalachian Regional Commission, more than 20% of rural Appalachia residents live in poverty compared to 12.4% of Americans (2022). The families we meet as we serve have survived experiences so far removed from my own, and yet, they remain some of the most generous and faithful people I’ve had the privilege to meet. And when I think of why I’m drawn to ASP, I think about, for the past 10 summers, this ministry has given me everything I’ve needed:
In 2015, right after my freshman year of college, it was on that trip that I saw a leader within myself that I had never seen before.
In 2016, through Mission Impossible antics and Cedar Point surprises, it was understanding that service can be as fun as it can be impactful.
In 2017, when I had thought of moving out of state after college, it was my homeowner, Ms. Lillie, that told me, “You’re doing a good thing for these youngins. Don’t give up on ‘em just yet.”
In 2018, it was learning to dream big.
In 2019, when there was no scenic outlook nearby, it was noticing beauty in unexpected places, like sunsets in the Walmart parking lot.
In 2020, when COVID-19 prevented our largest group from going on a trip, it was finding genuine peace in the midst of so much uncertainty.
In 2021, when I was worried I didn’t have it in me to lead an ASP group to Magoffin County, Kentucky, it was five young women all decked out in orange that reminded me service is about leading with your heart.
In 2022, it was seeing teens bond over friendship bracelets, a prayer service on a rickety porch, rap battles in the van, and bear sightings on the “snake” that taught me to be present and not take a single moment for granted.
Just this past summer, when I was struggling to figure out what my next steps should be, it was our homeowner, Angie, who stood on her front porch and said, “When God calls you to do something, you can’t stop thinking about it; others may not like it, but God will never lead you in the wrong direction.”
It’s seeing teens overcome their biggest fears, learning about the culture from a teacher or a coal-miner or a pastor we met at Walmart, eating all the second dinners and winding through the country roads, venturing off to late-night ice cream runs that end in midnight gazes at the star-filled sky. It’s seeing God, not only in the people I’ve served or in the beauty of the sun-touched mountains, but in the people I’m serving with. It’s the uncontrollable laughter of newly discovered and unexpected friendships. It’s the feeling of being a part of something so much larger than myself, and knowing, without a doubt, that I am exactly where I’m supposed to be.
For these reasons, I started Adventures in Appalachia Inc., a nonprofit organization that recruits, educates, and prepares high school students to spend 10 days of their summer serving with the Appalachia Service Project. We’ll use this platform for teens and adults to spread the news of the good work they’ve done, consider the hope they provide each other and the families they serve, and reflect on their experiences and Adventures in Appalachia.
Written by Katelyn Stanley
