Wouldn’t It Be Nice?
“Wouldn’t it be nice,” I said to my wife, “if there was a business out there that cooked good food that you could pickup at their place nearby or would even deliver it to your house?”
“Why, yes,” she replied, “that sounds like a great idea.”
“A million dollar idea.”
And after day dreaming on a snowy winter’s afternoon for a few minutes, we returned to figuring out what to cook for supper for our family of five.
Officially, anyone who lives in a city of 50,000 people or fewer resides in a small-town. Our town has around 450 people, which means we could grow more than 100 times our population and still be considered a small town.
Likewise, anyone who lives miles away from a metro urban area lives in a rural setting. It would be one thing if we were a small town near a major population center, but only 26,000 people live within a fifty-mile radius. To put that in perspective, some 18 million people live within a fifty-mile radius of New York City. But that’s far away. Even if we covered a fifty-mile radius area around the largest city in our state, Sioux Falls, there’d still be more than ten times the amount of people in that circle than live around here.
It is no surprise that because we have so fewer people than other parts of the country, we have few businesses among us. I once visited a church member who grew up here and lived in Chicago for a while as an adult. She said she missed dry cleaning the most. Me? I miss gathering places. We have a bar in town, and it’s busy on a lot of evenings. We have a sale barn too, and it’s really busy on Friday. Its café has some regulars each morning and afternoon. We also have a small coffee shop in a pharmacy with its own regulars in the afternoons. Groups of insiders frequent such places, but as an outsider it’s hard to feel welcome. Of course, many people feel that way about any church here, at least as it goes for being a Sunday-morning gathering place.
I miss having somewhere to go where there are sights, sounds, flavors, and company. I miss being able to pick up food when I’m too lazy to cook, or, even better, have it delivered to me, especially when the weather stinks. I miss people-watching at the mall, browsing a used book store just to see what’s new, and taking walks up and down shops and sidewalks. Given my wardrobe, I’ve never once missed dry cleaning.
As a winter storm swept across more populated parts of our country last week, I was introduced to news stories about people shoveling or not shoveling drives, sidewalks, and parking spaces. One sign in Philadelphia warned that whoever would park in a spot cleared off of snow would have its windows broken in by the shoveler. A sign posted at a parking spot in Washington D.C. read like an act of congress, but pretty much made the same point. One bank in New York became a national story as its customers complained that it refused to shovel its sidewalk and entrance. That’s not to mention stories about multi-car crashes, people creating igloos in their yard and listing them on Air BnB (surely, that’s a joke, right?), and homeless people freezing to death.
Snow happens in our town too. Outside my office I spy on the ever-growing mound that will soon have my children, and sometimes me, sledding down it or having lightsaber duels on it like we were on Hoth. I hear and see my neighbors clearing off their walks too. I join them. In big storms someone will come with a Bobcat and clear our driveway, which is great since gravel and shovels do not mix. The snow comes and goes, and while we may not have anyone to deliver us food while snowed in, we do have neighbors who serve and care for each other. Wouldn’t it be nice to live where no one has to worry about their car windows being broken in just for parking their car?
Life in a small town in rural America is not perfect. We have an underbelly too, with illegal drugs, chaotic homes, and lonely people of all ages hanging on in quiet desperation. But there are also strengths. We learn how to make our own favorite restaurant-quality dishes. We invite people over to our house to gather with them, instead of relying on some neutral space. We people watch our family, friends, and neighbors regularly, while some of us can’t resist speculating what they are up to. We learn the needs of our neighbors and rise up to help them, whether that’s with a shovel, a food basket, or a lawnmower.
I've read countless articles that say the church in America needs Christians to neighbor well again. We have a leg up on that in rural, small-town America. Wouldn’t it be nice if we’d become bold enough to open our eyes to where God is at work in our midst, witness what only he can do, and proclaim his good news of his kingdom to those same neighbors? May it start with me! May it spread with you!
“Why, yes,” she replied, “that sounds like a great idea.”
“A million dollar idea.”
And after day dreaming on a snowy winter’s afternoon for a few minutes, we returned to figuring out what to cook for supper for our family of five.
Officially, anyone who lives in a city of 50,000 people or fewer resides in a small-town. Our town has around 450 people, which means we could grow more than 100 times our population and still be considered a small town.
Likewise, anyone who lives miles away from a metro urban area lives in a rural setting. It would be one thing if we were a small town near a major population center, but only 26,000 people live within a fifty-mile radius. To put that in perspective, some 18 million people live within a fifty-mile radius of New York City. But that’s far away. Even if we covered a fifty-mile radius area around the largest city in our state, Sioux Falls, there’d still be more than ten times the amount of people in that circle than live around here.
It is no surprise that because we have so fewer people than other parts of the country, we have few businesses among us. I once visited a church member who grew up here and lived in Chicago for a while as an adult. She said she missed dry cleaning the most. Me? I miss gathering places. We have a bar in town, and it’s busy on a lot of evenings. We have a sale barn too, and it’s really busy on Friday. Its café has some regulars each morning and afternoon. We also have a small coffee shop in a pharmacy with its own regulars in the afternoons. Groups of insiders frequent such places, but as an outsider it’s hard to feel welcome. Of course, many people feel that way about any church here, at least as it goes for being a Sunday-morning gathering place.
I miss having somewhere to go where there are sights, sounds, flavors, and company. I miss being able to pick up food when I’m too lazy to cook, or, even better, have it delivered to me, especially when the weather stinks. I miss people-watching at the mall, browsing a used book store just to see what’s new, and taking walks up and down shops and sidewalks. Given my wardrobe, I’ve never once missed dry cleaning.
As a winter storm swept across more populated parts of our country last week, I was introduced to news stories about people shoveling or not shoveling drives, sidewalks, and parking spaces. One sign in Philadelphia warned that whoever would park in a spot cleared off of snow would have its windows broken in by the shoveler. A sign posted at a parking spot in Washington D.C. read like an act of congress, but pretty much made the same point. One bank in New York became a national story as its customers complained that it refused to shovel its sidewalk and entrance. That’s not to mention stories about multi-car crashes, people creating igloos in their yard and listing them on Air BnB (surely, that’s a joke, right?), and homeless people freezing to death.
Snow happens in our town too. Outside my office I spy on the ever-growing mound that will soon have my children, and sometimes me, sledding down it or having lightsaber duels on it like we were on Hoth. I hear and see my neighbors clearing off their walks too. I join them. In big storms someone will come with a Bobcat and clear our driveway, which is great since gravel and shovels do not mix. The snow comes and goes, and while we may not have anyone to deliver us food while snowed in, we do have neighbors who serve and care for each other. Wouldn’t it be nice to live where no one has to worry about their car windows being broken in just for parking their car?
Life in a small town in rural America is not perfect. We have an underbelly too, with illegal drugs, chaotic homes, and lonely people of all ages hanging on in quiet desperation. But there are also strengths. We learn how to make our own favorite restaurant-quality dishes. We invite people over to our house to gather with them, instead of relying on some neutral space. We people watch our family, friends, and neighbors regularly, while some of us can’t resist speculating what they are up to. We learn the needs of our neighbors and rise up to help them, whether that’s with a shovel, a food basket, or a lawnmower.
I've read countless articles that say the church in America needs Christians to neighbor well again. We have a leg up on that in rural, small-town America. Wouldn’t it be nice if we’d become bold enough to open our eyes to where God is at work in our midst, witness what only he can do, and proclaim his good news of his kingdom to those same neighbors? May it start with me! May it spread with you!
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