We live in one of the most depressed areas in New York State.
Our closest nearby city was once named the saddest city in America. This region isn’t only economically depressed, but it’s downtrodden in spirit.
Many people gave up on life long ago.
My neighborhood is buckling sidewalks and burned out buildings.
My neighborhood is empty storefronts and closed up churches.
My neighborhood is houses falling down around the people inside them.
My neighborhood uses language, once reserved for sailors and truck drivers, on children.
My neighborhood is supported by welfare.
There are no jobs in my neighborhood. People are out of work for so long, they forget how good working feels.
My neighborhood is depression.
My neighborhood is children without hope for the future.
My neighborhood is young girls having babies, because at least then the state will pay for them to get their own place.
My neighborhood is dying.
The people who can are fleeing to other places.
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We live in an area with farms surrounding every small town. This is dairy country. All you dairy free people wouldn’t do well around here. People eat, drink, and live for milk.
The cheese is good too.
Farmers are some of the hardest working people I know, and often, the farmers are also the doctors and the coaches and the business men. They do it all.
In the summer, this place stinks of liquified manure. I tell my husband that one day I just want to live someplace that doesn’t smell like poop. I despise the smell.
Because this is farm country, lots of Amish people have moved in. Horses and buggies drive down my street all the time. The kids love it. They stop whatever they are doing to wave at all the children hanging off the back of the buggies.
The Amish scare me to death. My biggest fear is that I will run one of them over with my car, because their horses don’t move very fast and our speed limit is usually 50 mph. When you’re driving up over a mountain, you have no idea if there is a buggy full of hay just over the ridge. These buggies are almost always driven by children.
Amish people buy Velveeta cheese, play Monopoly, and eat at McDonald’s. I never would have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.
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We live along the Erie Canal.
This place is full of history.
My husband has preached in churches that were missions to the Indians. It’s old here, almost older than dirt, but America is a young country, so it can’t be that old.
Last summer I thought about running a series on 31 Days of Historical Landmarks, because we have that many.
The local historical society is a fun place to visit. It’s like a boring textbook come to life.
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We live in a place that needs to change in order to survive, but the people are clinging to the past with every last ounce of strength.
No one wants anything to change, but they are blind to the fact that everyone in town is changing. And it’s change for the worse.
This town isn’t what it was thirty or forty years ago. So few people remain.
The longer people cling to the past, the less hope there is for the future.
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We live in one of the most spiritually dead places in New York.
My thirteen year-old son said, “I just want to go to a church where the people like me.”
Go ahead and let that break your heart for a second.
Some people refer to America as being a “Christian Nation” and I suppose it is in certain regions and pockets of our country, but I know the place where I live is not Christian, nor is it spiritual or religious.
I taught the kids in my neighborhood about Christmas. They never heard of baby Jesus, not even the little ceramic figure in a manger scene.
You’re probably thinking, “What a great place for a ministry family!”
And it is. People need the Lord.
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Many days I don’t like living here.
Some days seem pointless and futile. Sometimes I worry that we are not doing the right thing for our children. I fear the longer we stay, the less hope there is of ever leaving.
I know God has a plan and purpose. I know I should trust Him and I do, most of the time, but there are days, especially when I see our kids hurt or discouraged, that I begin to lose hope. Those are the days when I want to pack our car and drive far away.
I’m not writing this post for sympathy or a pat on the back. We’re not doing anything special. We are simply attempting to love God and serve others. Many of you are doing the exact same thing.
Some days just look better than others.
This isn’t a very encouraging post, but it is honest. In my recent survey, someone asked me write more about where I live.
I struggle with what and how much to say. My desire is to love the people around me and to show them God’s grace. I don’t want my words to offend them, and I’m not exactly an anonymous blogger, so I generally shy away from the topic of where I live.
I live in a very small town.
Everyone knows everyone else and all of their business. In some ways, I love this. In other ways, it drives me nutty. I will try to strike a balance and share more with you in the future.
Now tell me, what is it like where you live?
Thank you for sharing more about where you live. Sometimes the true heros in life are the ones that stay and keep on. I know the problems with trying to decide what’s right for your children, but God will never let you down. If He leads you there, it’s because it’s best for you AND your children. We realized this when we went to Africa.
Wow! I can feel your honest emotions in this post. I know what it is like to live in a place you just want to run from. I love the fact that your focus is to love the people around you right where you are…right where they are.
I live in small town Ontario, in the middle of farm country. We are two hours from the nearest freeway in any direction. We are about four hours from Detroit, and three hours from Niagara Falls. The railway used to go through our town, and you could ride the train to Toronto–that was gone years before we moved here.
It is a lovely little town of about 1800. There are nine churches. Most are not well-attended, but there is a fairly active Ministerial–group of ministers. We have a tiny hospital, and my husband is the chaplain there as well as minister in a small congregation. The folk around here are Scottish, German and Dutch background.
Some of my ancestors lived in a town about 15 miles away. It seems odd to me to live here now, close to my history, as I never had a place that I called home for long when I was growing up. My growing up years were split between two continents, and five countries.
We are so close to farms that we can smell the fertilizer in the summer. I used to tell the kids “Run outside and grow. ”
But underneath the beauty of the town, we have a drug problem. There are times of the day where we are concerned about letting the children walk downtown without us. There are needs here.
Just had to ask….we fed our kids Beechnut baby foods. Does that ring a bell for you? We also like to visit RI–it would be great to meet IRL sometime. Do we pass your town?
the cottage that my husband and i are renovating is in the small rural area of SW PA where we both grew up, but neither of us have lived there for 20+years. It’s poor, but there is a college there. And the oil/gas industry is overwhelming it right now, which might be good for the economy, but what will it do to the environment? We aren’t sure what we’re going to do, but we feel God is putting us there for a reason. God has put you there for a reason as well. Your kids will learn about being salt and light. Maybe the hard way, but sometimes those are the best lessons. Thank you. I can always count on you for a thoughtful post.
I found your blog through My Own Yellow Wallpaper, and I’m here to stay! What a wrenching, beautiful post.
That is a heartbreaking post. Especially since, where I live, you can hardly spit without hitting a church. Sometimes, it’s baffling to think that there can be so much difference between areas in the same country. And I stopped believing that America is a “Christian nation” decades ago.
Thank you for such an honest and truthful answer about your town and the people and things that make it what it is. I was the one who asked you to write more about where you live. In your other posts (which I read everyday) you kinda write about your area but it was very non-specific. You see I have lived in the same place my whole life. I live about 300ft away from where I was born and raised, and I now still live here and raise my family. My sister lives across the field about a 1/4 mile away. We live in Northern Alberta Canada. It is a tough place weather wise but I know no different! So I guess that is why I wanted to know about your town so I could get to know you and your family a little better and to imagine what it would be like to live in your town. I am always intrigued about other places and the people who live there. I have only traveled a little bit so I am not to worldly but I read lots…haha. I have always liked your blog because I always felt you were a honest person doing the best you can for your family and your community. I respect that greatly!!! So I would like to say to you and your family “thanks” your community is lucky to have you all. Take care and I look forward to learning more from you!
ps….love love the library, we are huge readers up here!!!
Marlo,
Thank you for letting me know that you were the person who asked. It’s nice to put a name with a reader. I appreciate your sweet comment. I do try to be honest, but end up second guessing myself and wondering if perhaps I said too much. So, thank you for taking a minute to comment.
I love my library too! It really is my favorite place in town. It’s an oasis, really.
Nice to get to know a little bit about you. I’m sure it’s wonderful to live so close to your family.
~FringeGirl
I may do something like this in the future. Where we live is a lot like where you live, especially the first part. Things to ponder. Thank you.
Thanks Michael. I will look forward to reading a post about your area. I always enjoy when you write on where you and your family live and serve.
I always wonder about other bloggers’ lives and specifically about where they live. Thank you for sharing.
I live in northwest Washington state. It’s cold most of the time and it rains a great deal. My family moved here 4 years ago after my husband’s job in southern Oregon was eliminated. This was all that was available at the, so here we are. Now his employer here will be closing the plant soon, and I don’t know where we will go next. Hopefully someplace warmer, God willing.
Question: Were you or your husband raised near where you live now, or do you have extended family nearby? I quess I’m asking (and I hope you don’t mind), why do you live there instead of someplace else?
Cindy, I don’t mind at all. That’s actually a really good question. I was raised in the NYC area. My husband did live here when he was a child. His dad had a dairy farm and he’s always been burdened for the area. We came here for ministry reasons. My husband is not only an electrician, but he is also an ordained minister.
My town is a dichotomy and nowhere do I see that more clearly than in my classroom. The kids who are currently living in the homeless shelter are sitting alongside those who woke up in million dollar homes. It’s a town full of history, as Washington spent his winters here during the Revolution, and I actually have done some historical places posts, but ran out of time to do them all. My grandparents lived in a town like yours and I remember it well. It was just beginning the downward spiral of sad change when they died, and I guarantee, if they were to go back there, today, they wouldn’t recognize it.
Sounds like your classroom is a challenge. I mean, I’m sure there must be some tension/pressure between the very wealthy and the homeless. It can’t be easy to teach in such a diversified classroom. These towns do get into a downward spiral. At one time this area was thriving too.
Strangely, there doesn’t seem to be. They’ve all been in the same schools since kindergarten, and while there certainly is some social division, I think to call it tension would be a stretch. That being said, the cross-social class friendships do not seem to last much further than high school, based on the students who remain in the area after college graduation.