Small Town Life

When I drive through small-town America, my heart responds to the sheer variety of life options. Mobile homes, well-kept trailers, two-story white farmhouses, ranch homes, horses grazing on a side lot of a tiny home, manicured lawns, garden beds adorned with huge metal roosters that beat all.

Even the cemetery speaks of loved ones long or recently departed. Tombstones of black granite, white stone, heart-shaped, tree styled, announce names, dates, and the final resting place of those who once occupied the various homes throughout town.

Business is limited here as there isn’t the infrastructure to feed a large number of main street stores. I figured that most everyone worked in a farming-related industry, but I’ve been surprised to discover a variety of employment options. People drive from various places or work online.

But why live here? I wondered.

Turns out there is a good reason. Family.

I have come to know several families in the area and discovered that though younger members may have found employment in another town or city, they frequently return home to visit.

Personally, I find that rather awesome. In a disconnected world, to discover three, even four generations still closely connected, rivals anything I could learn about my family on Ancestory.com. And then, there’s that cemetery. The one here in my town goes all the way back to the 1830s. Who needs an Internet search when great-great-grandpa is laid to rest next to great-great-grandma on Burg Road?

I’ve spent time with several of the elderly folks who have lived in town for most of their lives. They had children, and their children had children. And so it went. On birthdays, anniversaries, and holidays, families gather for food, conversation, and support.

This feels a bit like peeking in on an alien world. A little enviously. Except now, the alien world has become my home.

Granted this little town isn’t as vibrant as it once was, and big-city problems plague people here too. But I’ve come to admire the tenacity of small-town life. Deep roots. Hard-working. Quiet and enduring.

Some people sneer at crumbling barns, closed storefronts, and population counts that would look more impressive if they included horses, house pets, and God’s glorious nature, but I’ve learned to look through the broken parts and be amazed by the spirit of those who came before.

To be honest, as I drive down Main Street to a meeting at the tiny municipal building, also known to host the morning’s Coffee & Gab gatherings, I feel honored to be a part of this world. Maybe someday, I’ll leave my mark behind—for those who come after.

 

Novels by A. K. Frailey

Science Fiction

Last of Her Kind http://amzn.to/2y1HJvg

Newearth: Justine Awakens http://amzn.to/2pq0vWN

Historical Fiction

Melchior—Vengeance Is Mine http://amzn.to/2taeW2r

Historical Fiction & Science Fiction Blend

OldEarth ARAM Encounter https://amzn.to/2KLhlsN

OldEarth Ishtar Encounter https://amzn.to/2OAkDQF

OldEarth Neb Encounter (In production)

OldEarth Georgios Encounter (In production)

Children’s Book

The Adventures of Tally-Ho http://amzn.to/2sLfcI5

Inspirational Non-Fiction

HeartBeats—Spiritual Being, Human Journey https://amzn.to/2KvF3Ll

The Road Goes Ever On—A Christian Journey Through The Lord of the Rings http://amzn.to/2lWBd0z

Short Stories

It Might Have Been—And Other Short Storiehttps://amzn.to/2XXdDDz

What God Has Desired

I just finished reading my grandmother’s memoirs, and once again, I see the universe from a new perspective. Marie Haggerty had a terrible relationship with many members of her immediate family, but at age seven she fell in love with Irving McDonald and stayed in love with him all her life. She and Irving brought six children into a world changing faster and more wildly than they could ever have foreseen. And after each adventure—and misadventure—they would kiss before going to sleep. No trial or anxiety could survive that humble nighttime kiss.

I’ve heard it said, “Love is an action word.” But I suspect that might be a bit simplistic. There are times when love lives best in things not done. An angry word not said. A bitter mood not indulged. The silence of waiting for the right moment to deal with a problem. Not following when someone wants to be left alone. Yes, love is shown by our actions; we are known by our fruit. But sometimes, we love best by not reacting, demanding, or repeating compulsive family patterns.

My grandmother lived through a painful childhood, married the love of her life, cared deeply for her children, made enduring friends, painted pictures, and established new homes time and time again. Ironically, the copy of her memoirs I own does not include her final page. It ends without an ending. I know that Irv died on the way back from posting a letter. Dropped dead on the sidewalk. I don’t know how my grandmother died. I just know that she died, and my mother lived on. My mother died in her turn, and now I live on. At some point, I will die, and my daughters will live on.

But the snapshot of her life, the sound of her voice in my head as I read the words she typed so long ago, have made a lasting impression upon my soul. But for her, I would not exist today. Her life informed (and in some ways deformed) my mom, who passed her biology and emotional baggage onto me. And so in turn, my children inherit my physical dispositions and all the lessons learned (and unlearned) that I have experienced.

During this summer, I also read a great number of blogs and books on human relationships. Lots of great advice. But one oft-repeated refrain made me pause. It’s meant to release us from carrying other people’s burdens, I suppose. “You can’t change anyone.”

Really?

I went along with the idea until I pondered Christ on the Cross. Then I slammed hard against the redemption of the human race. We’re still apes, eh?

On the contrary, I suspect we are always changing people. Forming or deforming everyone around us and ourselves in the process.

I agree that the honeymoon is no place to try to convert your new hubby into a non-smoker. Or that a woman who loves faux fur is likely to appreciate taxidermy because you stuffed a mink in a perfect statuesque form in her kitchen.

But the truth is, at the end of her days, my mother was a changed woman. But she had known the love of her father and her father’s love for her mother. She may have lost her beauty, her strength, and her wit but she managed to eke out the word “lovely” when she saw her granddaughter. My dad has forgotten all his academic skills, but he remembers each week to say that he loves me.

Perhaps we can’t “change” people so much as we can help each other become what God has desired for us. Love is to will the good of another so that they can accept and return real love. My grandmother, probably because of grandfather’s devotion, willed me a great deal of good through her honest reflections.

I pray that the same can be said of me someday.

 

Novels by A. K. Frailey

Science Fiction

Last of Her Kind  http://amzn.to/2y1HJvg

Newearth: Justine Awakens http://amzn.to/2pq0vWN

Historical Fiction

Melchior—Vengeance Is Mine http://amzn.to/2taeW2r

Historical Fiction & Science Fiction Blend

OldEarth ARAM Encounter https://amzn.to/2KLhlsN

OldEarth Ishtar Encounter https://amzn.to/2OAkDQF

OldEarth Neb Encounter (In production)

OldEarth Georgios Encounter (In production)

Children’s Book

The Adventures of Tally-Ho http://amzn.to/2sLfcI5

Inspirational Non-Fiction

The Road Goes Ever On—A Christian Journey Through The Lord of the Rings http://amzn.to/2lWBd00