Image: Melanie Kyer
Small town summer means blessing:
Picking up a box of bruised peaches at the farmer’s market and making jam,
then giving a jar to the mechanic down the road who fixed your air conditioning.
Small town summer shouldn’t mean a mother stuck at home, no money to fix
the car, and no public transportation to bring the kids to the playground.
Small town summer means home:
Driving by license plates from 12 different states on your way to the grocery
store and knowing when to time your shopping trip by the tides.
Small town summer shouldn’t mean an hour’s walk to work at a hotel where
you serve tourists who complain your accent’s hard to understand.
Small town summer means comfort:
Leaving the beach to the tourists and seeking out a spot to read in the shady
park by the public library.
Small town summer shouldn’t mean getting shot because you were out after
dark in a park where no one knows you.
Comfort, home and blessing are a privilege and a gift— but not for ours to
keep.
Above its doors our small town church is proud to show a sign:
“All are welcome at God’s Table.”
But…what if I told you…we are the table?
Melanie Kyer