The Heart of a Community
Growing up in Phoenix, my family’s preparation for Memorial Day followed a set routine. First, a stop at the flower stand on Indian School Road, where we’d pick up bunches of asters and other late spring blooms.
Back at home, we’d divide the flowers into coffee cans my mother had wrapped in foil before packing them into the car and heading to the cemetery.
Once there, we’d drive past row after row of headstones set in manicured, grassy lawns. Upon reaching the family plot, we would lift out the flowers and place them beside each headstone with care, then stand in silence for a moment, reflecting on memories of days gone by. Then it was time to climb back in the car for the drive home, knowing the process would be repeated the following year. As a family tradition, it was meaningful, and yet . . .
It always bothered me a bit that the names on the headstones nearby were names of people I didn’t know. Our departed relatives seemed to form an island unto themselves in a sea of strangers.
I’ve always enjoyed stories about small-town life, where everyone pulls together as a community. Maybe that’s why I love setting my stories in places where people know and care about their neighbors—the kind of place where I live today.
A little over a week ago, a band of volunteers, ranging from teens to octogenarians, turned out at our local cemetery. Armed with rakes, hoes, shovels, and weed eaters, we set out to spruce it up for our town’s Memorial Day service.
It’s quite a contrast from the professionally landscaped cemetery I knew as a child. The only grasses in evidence are the high desert varieties that grow here naturally. The headstones aren’t laid out in uniform rows. The variety of markers and monuments wouldn’t fit in with that cemetery in Phoenix . . . and that doesn’t bother me one bit.
As we worked from one plot to the next, I took time to read the names on each of the headstones, recognizing most of them. These aren’t the names of strangers—they’re people I’ve known during the quarter century my family and I have lived in this rural community. I know many of their stories, both happy and sad. In this setting, I’m walking among friends.
Every year on Memorial Day, the town gathers to honor the sacrifices made by members of our military. And every time I join that gathering, my heart swells when I see the flags waving, listen to the speeches, and hear members of the American Legion Post fire off a 21-gun salute, followed by the playing of “Taps.”
I look at the faces around me, seeing people I know. People I love. These are the faces that make up a community, a place to belong.
A place where we take care of our own.
If you, too, enjoy stories of tight-knit communities, I’d like to invite you to meet the people of Cedar Ridge, Arizona, in my latest book, TROUBLE IN STORE.
And to celebrate its release, my wonderful publisher Bethany House is holding a giveaway, featuring hundreds of dollars worth of absolutely amazing prizes!
Win a four-place tea set of fine china, an artisan rosewood music box exactly like the one featured in the story, real 1800s coffee and an antique coffee grinder, and more.
The giveaway will launch June 3.
If you’d like to receive notice when it’s open for entries, “Like” my Facebook page (if you haven’t already), or sign up for my newsletter using the form below.
Your e-mail address will be kept confidential, and never sold or shared, not even for bribes of chocolate!
Yes, please add me to your mailing list and notify me when the Mercantile Mystery Sweepstakes goes live
Your Email Address:
Until next time…
