As days get warmer, people and animals begin coming out of their shelters more and more. The time changed and so the sun stretches longer into evening. Once again, the hum of lawnmowers and chainsaws carries down the road. People look up from their work and wave.
Before I moved to the country two and a half years ago, I had sought out community and had it in beautiful pockets around the city: work friends that got together every so often; a loving church; a few steady neighbors; soccer families that we came to know over the years; a small, but vibrant folk music society; a movie night with old friends at home; an evolving book club, and separate, workout group that each had a strong, core group with other people cycling through.
It took decades to find and build these groups. There were rules, time constraints and obligations to being a part of a group. Sometimes communities overlapped. Hey, what a surprise to see you here! And sometimes that was good.
So naturally, moving to a place where I barely knew anyone was a bit isolating and difficult. At first, nature was enough, more than enough even. I was overwhelmed by the beauty and enjoyed the quiet. I was content to read and write while surrounded by bird song and cows lowing. But we are social creatures. Even my introverted people need others from time to time, if in short doses.
I found country folks, at least around here, to be sweet as can be on the surface, polite and helpful, and then a bit reserved. In the city, some people were friendly, but so many seemed closed. It was hard to catch a stranger’s eye to say hello on the street and then the panicky look came, like what does this person want from me.
It was explained to me that in the country, people to get to know and trust you, but once they saw you were sincere, and staying put, they would do almost anything for you. Thankfully, that has turned out to be true. Little by little, the invitations to barbecues and churches began.
I am so grateful for one of my little jobs, (I’ve picked up a few) writing for a farming newspaper. The people I interviewed for city publications ranged from accepting to excited about being in a paper. Farmers on the other hand, are busy, a bit protective over their domain and sometimes shy. So, this was a group I was honored to get to know.
Recently, we received gifts of eggs and beef. We prefer to purchase as much as we can locally, from smaller farms. However, we still get most of our food from stores. These gifts were complete surprises from two separate sources, just part of the community offering what they can spare to neighbors. Knowing the hands and backs that labored, thoughtfully tending to these chickens and cattle is a precious connection.
It’s two for two in the churches I’ve tried. Different services and ways, but the same inviting feeling. Nobody seems to mind that I am inconsistent in my attendance. They are not judging, but welcoming. I miss my old church, but am happy to find spiritual community where it is offered.
I’ve seen people who are happy to pull someone’s car out if it’s stuck in a ditch and regularly disappear for a bit from barbecues to bring a plate of food to an elderly neighbor. Doors are held for others as a rule and “Ma’am”is offered as a show of respect.
Living here is a bit like stepping back in the past to a time when people cared more about helping one another. Not everything in the past was amazing; don’t get me started on the eighties music in the stores. I also don’t hate cities, I enjoy visits to Springfield and Kansas City. I am just still taking in the newness of peace, quiet and like minded people who are also drawn here.