God is great, God is good. Let us thank Him for this food.

Growing up, we had one prayer we said before meals, sometimes.

"God is great, God is good, let us thank Him for this food.
Amen"


Last night our band of folks met at the First Presbyterian Church for dinner. We were hosted there by the folks from the First Methodist Church. Yeah...go figure. Can't the Christians just stay in their own boxes? *grin* The picture is of the meal...some of the best sweet corn you can imagine, beans, squash, tomato and cucumber salad. Oh, yeah, and some chicken and a slice of bread. And cantaloupe or watermelon or brownies for dessert. And lemonade. The pre-meal prayer was something like this:

"God Thank you. Thank you for these people for the work they are doing. Thank you for providing this food. Thank you for the hands that prepared it. You are awesome. Amen!

Not so different.

This is my fifth time down here working with the farm workers and PA students. Lots of folks have come more often. Some are here for the first time. An always memorable meal is the one the Methodists provide. They are sneaky. After a couple of days of working with folks who are sacrificing so much to keep food on our tables (and a little less food on their own tables), they invite us in to a beautiful meal of freshly picked vegetables from local farms. We get to have the pure joy of enjoying the goodness that comes forth from the earth. But we can't help but remember how it got to the table. It's a bittersweet meal to eat. And oh so good and delicious.

Like so many other folks here working this week, I don't want to forget that feeling of pained enjoyment. Help me always to remember when I'm thanking God for the food I'm eating that I thank Him for the lives of the workers who are getting it to my table. More importantly that I take every chance I can to work to make sure their lives can be lived in dignity and safety. And that their table be as filled with as much deliciousness as mine. Amen.

Is this Hell?

Remember the awesome movie, A Field of Dreams? And the question? Is this heaven? This week, I'm in deep southwest Georgia, near the border with Florida. I'm here to serve as an interpreter for PA students from Emory University as they complete a rotation in which they offer a free health clinic to the migrant farm workers here in the area. As we drive up to field after field in the brutal heat, only to encounter workers who are compromised physically in so many ways, and really held captive to the lives they are living, I have thought of this question again and again. Is this hell?

We all get stuck in ruts and live without really paying attention to what's going on around us. One day we wake up and realize we are not at the place we were headed and we readjust our sails to get back to the place we want to be. These workers have very purposefully chosen where to go...they have escaped the difficulties and sometimes the horrors of their lives south of our southern border and have come here...for a better life. As I look at the work they do....it is backbreaking work done in the hottest sun you can imagine...and the effect it has on their bodies and minds, I wonder....for them....is this hell? Though quick to acknowledge the difficulty of the work, rarely do I hear them complain that they are not where they want to be. And to a man or woman, they have a plan. "In 8 to 10 years I want to return to Guatemala." "I don't have a visa so I have to stay here until I'm ready to go back home." Never at a loss for direction, they know where they are and where they are going. Amazing to me.

My roommate, a thoughtful Salvadoran/Urugayan/Italian American from San Francisco, is fascinated by their stories, and I share his interest. Such epic tales of escape, danger, and always, it seems, overcoming. They overcome. Whatever is in their path, they overcome it. So what that I'm working in the hot sun everyday and you're telling me I have TB...there are treatments, right? I'll overcome. I was involved in a vehicle accident five years ago, but I can keep doing this work until I don't have to anymore. I will overcome. My son is in college and my daughter is one of the most famous people in Florida. They tell me that they will take care of me and their dad one day. We'll be able to leave the tomato fields. We will overcome. Vaginal infection, fungus, heart murmur, back pain, terrible headaches, TB, pregnancy, diabetes...all difficulties. But we will overcome. Working 8-9 hours a day in the sun with no breaks and making hardly any money...stuck here on the farm unable to go and shop or even wash clothes...teeth that got pulled that needed to come out long ago and now my mouth is sore....all things that can and will be overcome. Come back and see me in ten or fifteen years. You will see.

No. This is not hell. It's a hard, hot, difficult place to be. But it's not hell. Despite barriers galore, and difficulties that multiply like rabbits, this is only a place to be overcome. And I will overcome. This is a place of superheroes. It is not hell.