I Find God in the Strangest Places

Standing on the porch of the my new (old) house in Church Hill, I see God in the sweet old man in his Sunday suit.  He rewards my groggy "Good Morning" with a smile that would light up the darkest corners of the world.  I've been warned repeatedly to be careful in this neighborhood.  It's one of the oldest in the city and infamous for crime, violence and drugs.  Nothing I've seen so far (at least on the immediately surrounding blocks) gives any credence to these claims.  The air is brisk and the sidewalks are cracked; the houses show their age in peeling paint and sagging porches.  The people; however, are vital and tough.  The revel in the dust and tragedy that has painted this hill so vividly in the imaginations of outsiders.  I see God in their resilience.  True to its name, my home is within walking distance of a handful of churches, two of which I can see from my house.  While I haven't found God in a church in a very long time, the mere presence of these symbols in such close proximity to me is hard to deny.  I see God when the hood rats step politely out of the way and excuse themselves when I'm carrying heavy boxes up the sidewalk.  It is said that the truth will set you free.  I used to find the idea trite and idealistic.  However, as I slowly clear away the layers of misunderstanding, mystery and outright fear that surround this hill, I find that the reality is far more rewarding than I could have imagined.