Where is our heart?

Today, I spoke with a woman at University Hospital. She was 87 years old, and at first I thought she didn't like me. She was cross, defensive, and grouchy. An independent invalid. After verifying her information, and getting signatures, she softened just a little. For my forced politeness, I received a vague smile and the polite inquiry,
"Where do you go to school?"
Of course proudly, but braced for a lengthy explanation, I replied,
"God's Bible School and College."
and was then happily surprised to see a real smile flash across her face.
"I remember them, they use to be up in Mt Auburn. And every Thanksgiving they had a big meal"
I smiled back and nodded. She went on to tell me how they use to look forward to that time every year. Not only did they get a wonderful meal but she said,
"The students would all come down into the black neighbourhoods and gather up the children and pay for them to ride on the bus. It was the only time we road the bus, with the depression people didn't have money for that. Then they would feed us a big meal and send all the kids home with a bag of candy."
Her eyes glowed with the memories and I could easily imagine this aged lady as a small child eagerly grasping her bag of candy.
"Me and my sister never missed that. Not once, but the kids that did miss, that was all they talked about."
And then she said the thing which in all of this struck me the most.
"But I think they moved over to Price Hill now?"
She looked at me for confirmation. So I sadly shook my head no, and told her, "They're still there in Mt Auburn, but they don't do the Thanksgiving meal any more."

Shortly after I had to excuse myself and continue working, but that sad comment will doubtlessly plague me the rest of the day. How can people who have known about us, who we've helped in the past, who know we exist, not know we exist. How have we hidden on a hill? Why doesn't the community two streets from our school know who we are, where we are, and what we do? Our community service is not helping. Our Christian service is not helping. What has happened to the fervent heart for ministry that use to classify GBS student for this city? Where is our heart?

I leave you to mull this question, as will I, for the remainder of the day. Or the hour. Or the rest of this min. Mull, mull away.