Recently, hundreds of people arrived in Fort Scott to create an ESPN, “Red Bull Special” about motocross riding.  Ten of the world’s top riders came from as far as Belgium and Australia to compete in what they called “the most competitive event ever.” Hollywood producers, camera people, event coordinators and hill design specialists worked on my son’s and daughter-in-law’s ranch to turn a few acres into what I called a “crazy land.”

For days ahead, the riders checked out the 120+ possible jumps, knowing that they would be judged for their three-minute, death-defying tricks.  I had no idea what to expect, but over 1,000 race-lovers did, so weeks ahead of time, they purchased tickets to sit in the grandstands to cheer on these daredevils.

Because the event was held on Adam and Jenn’s land, I was allowed to watch the practices.  I held my breath as the riders zoomed to the top of one hill, only to take off and land 150-feet away on the down slope of another hill.  Sometimes they somersaulted their motorcycles in mid-air or did handstands on their bikes while holding on to the handlebars, looming forty feet over our heads.

The day before the race, Tyler, the biker who first had the dream to create this happening, walked into Adam and Jenn’s kitchen to talk with some of the soldiers who had come to watch.  I told him that I was terrified with what I saw and asked if he ever had broken any bones.  He listed them: both feet; both femurs; most ribs; a collarbone; wrists (multiple times); and both arms, one a compound fracture twelve weeks earlier.  He added that there had been several ACL tears and concussions.

On the day previous, Tyler had mastered a vault with such difficulty that all the other practicing racers stopped and applauded.  I asked him about it.  “For four days,” he said, “I have stayed awake at night, dreaming of how to tackle that jump.  I’d never mastered a hill with that degree of difficulty, but I had to do it.  I just got into my ‘hollow head’ and made it happen.”

“Your what?” I asked.  Tyler explained that when he is overcome with fear, he allows nothing else to enter his head besides conquering that terror.  I asked the soldiers if they knew about a “hollow head.”  They nodded. One answered, “When you’re in Iraq with rifles drawn, and you’re entering a home, unaware of what’s on the other side of the door, you have to be 100% focused if you plan to come out alive.” The bikers and the soldiers were kindred spirits, even though their motives were drastically different.

What makes some people determined that Fear will not win, and others let it defy who they are?  Why can’t we all allow “hollow head” to direct our focus in whatever we need to conquer?  If these riders and soldiers allow that mindset to help them do deathly, fearful things, shouldn’t we too be able to replace our anxious thoughts with a determination to master those silent enemies?

According to Proverbs 12:25, “Anxiety weighs down the heart of a man, but a good word cheers it up.” By speaking only encouragement to our souls, could we dare tackle something about which we have been uneasy or alleviate something that keeps us stagnant?

I love how Jesus put it as recorded in John 14:27: “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you; I do not give it to you as the world does. Do not let your hearts be distressed or lacking in courage.”  Jesus offers us his peace.  Today, let’s boldly look at whatever we fear, hollow our heads and give Jesus a chance.  All we have to do is ask.

Small Towns and Megatrends

 

From 1776 to 1941, America’s growth was driven by the expansion of virtually every small town in America.  Americans wanted freedom, elbow room, and time to enjoy relationships; however, that has all changed since World War II.  This column is the first in a series that expands on last week’s effort which asks the rhetorical question, “Why is Bourbon County Shrinking?”  I will share my research and attempt to identify the primary drivers, beginning with the forces that birthed urbanization.

 

Rapid industrialization of America was forced on us by Imperial Japan and Nazi Germany.  We became embroiled in a war, not of our own choosing, and we were not ready.  Something had to be done quickly.  Early naval battles after December 7, 1941 revealed that our weaponry was hopelessly outdated and unreliable.  We had to mobilize and innovate, as our very survival was at stake.  We were very close to an invasion of our West Coast and we had no time for political correctness.  We had to build factories, manufacture steel, and produce cutting edge machinery, weaponry, and ammunition.

 

To further incentivize new plants and the expansion of existing plants, lucrative tax incentives and accelerated depreciation were used.  This effectively had the impact of shifting the tax burden of the war effort disproportionately to small town America.  We continued to pay the freight without the benefit of new factories and new jobs. No patriotic American complained, as everyone understood the urgency of the task.

 

No one could have foreseen that this urbanization would begin to change the culture of America.  As cities grew, swelling with the influx of workers to support the war effort, well-planned suburbs began to spring up and cities and the surrounding communities grew together.  Suburban living was born and exploded after the war, facilitating the “Baby Boom” generation. This demographic grew rapidly from 1946 to 1964; you might have guessed that major cities benefitted far more than small towns during that time period, as returning soldiers filled the factory jobs now vacated by stay at home moms.

 

America prospered after the war, and the luxury of disposable income was experienced by a high number of citizens.  This megatrend was met by the entertainment industry competing for these dollars.  The “Boomers” fell in love with movies, the theater, ball games, golf, and numerous entertainment choices available in large cities.  As the value systems of Americans began to change, more and more young people left the “boring, dead end” life of small communities for high paying jobs and the entertainment choices of metropolitan areas.  The entertainment culture was born, and was adopted in mass by the children of the Boomers, who had no connection to small town living.

 

In retrospect, these megatrends look like forgone conclusions.  What could have small town Americans done to mitigate these trends?  Not much.  As Yogi Berra is quoted as saying, “If people don’t want to come out to the ballpark, nobody’s going to stop them!”  Right now, the ballpark of small town America is emptying out.

 

Next week: Where Have All the Farmers Gone?

“One thing no one ever talks about when it comes to being an adult is how much time we debate keeping a cardboard box because it’s, you know…a really good box.”

I don’t know who said that, but that person must have been eavesdropping yesterday morning when Dave and I “straightened up” our garage, an activity I always dread because it has the potential to drastically change my mood.  Especially when Dave points to my stash of cardboard boxes, resting harmlessly—yet potentially useful—on a high shelf that requires a ladder to reach.  I know what you’re thinking: “Gee, Dave, it’s not like she has them stuffed in your car or anything.”                                                                                                                                      I appreciate your support.                                                                                                                  For the most part, I’m Dave’s gopher on these sorts of tasks.  I go for his tools or help him lift something heavy or remind him to drink water or hold the dolly or measuring tape or whatever it takes to serve my man.  I say very little because this is his domain, except of course when he attacks my boxes. My words never change: “Dave, one never knows when one might need a microwave box or a thimble box or anything in between.”                                                                         Dave’s response makes no sense.  “So, shouldn’t those boxes have a shelf life of three or four years and then be thrown out?”  Really!  If you are a forward thinker like I am, you can predict what will happen.  The day after I leave my boxes for the trash man, some emergency will arise and I will need what I just tossed.  I’m not sure what that emergency might be, but it surely could happen.  One needs to be prepared.                                                                              I am a preparer. Probably to a fault. If leaving for a trip, I pack days ahead of time.  That way, I can change my mind numerous times and still manage to get where I’m going without something I need.  I make food items as far ahead as I can, meaning I will make only two trips to the grocery store the day that meal is scheduled.  If my Zoom Bible study leader gives a homework assignment due in a week, I am ready to go days before we meet. I will have forgotten half of what I’ve learned, but, by golly, I can raise my hand when asked if we read the assignment.  I’m never late. If I’m late, I’m probably dead.                                                                          Still, I sort of admire people who fly by the seat of their pants.  They have less angst than I, as they don’t get uptight about last-minute preparations. “What if” is not in their vocabulary, whereas it is my mantra.  Because of that, you would think that I would be ultra-prepared to meet my Maker.  Luke 21:36 should be a scripture I never would forget: Be alert at all times. Pray so that you have the power to escape everything that is about to happen and to stand in front of the Son of Man.                                                                                                                                          I need to be confident that when it’s time to go Home, I will have done everything necessary to be assured of spending eternity with Jesus. I will end well.  Feeding the poor.  Praying.  Writing an encouraging note.  Praying.  Running an errand for an invalid.  Praying.  Maybe even taking all my boxes to the trash can, just to please my husband.                         Naah, not that last one.                                                                                                                 Benjamin Franklin once said, “By failing to prepare, you are preparing to fail.”  Next time Dave suggests I part with my stockpile of boxes, I plan to tell him that.  I’ll let you know how it goes.

Nose to the Grindstone
Most of us have heard the following expressions: “He‘s not afraid of hard work.” “Put some elbow grease on it.” “You‘re burnin‘ daylight.” “If you don‘t work, you don‘t eat.“ “Make hay while the sun shines.” “If you choose a career you love, you’ll never work a
day in your life.“

Work is a big part of life and, if we want to amount to anything, we
have to work in some fashion. It may not be punching a time clock on the production line, or working in the office 9 to 5, driving a big rig, or pushing cattle, but we all have some type of work to accomplish. Honestly, there’s no paycheck for a lot of the work we do — just the satisfaction of a job well done. Anybody can start a chore, but you have to put your nose to the grindstone to finish it with excellence.

In the Bible, we refer to Nehemiah as the weeping prophet, for when he was told that the remnant of Jews were in great trouble and shame, the wall of Jerusalem was broken down and the gates burned, he sat down and wept and mourned for days. He knew his people were defenseless against their enemies with no wall for protection. King Artaxerxes sent Nehemiah to Jerusalem as Governor of Judah and also Chief Construction Officer.
Nehemiah maintained a close relationship with God, and God gave him wisdom on how to accomplish the huge task of rebuilding the wall of Jerusalem.

After Nehemiah inspected the wall, he called the men together and basically told them, “Don’t be afraid, trust God and work like crazy.“ Before the construction began, the scripture tells us, “the people had a mind to work” (Nehemiah 4:6 ESV). A stouthearted
decision must be made before we start something or there’s a strong possibility we won’t stick with it when the going gets tough.

Nehemiah and the people prayed and partnered with God, therefore, He set a guard as a protection against their enemies day and night. Nehemiah writes, “I stationed the people by their clans, with their swords, their spears, and their bows. And I said to the nobles and to the officials and to the rest of the people,
‘Do not be afraid of them [enemies]. Remember the Lord, who is great and awesome, and fight for your brothers, your sons, your daughters, your wives, and your homes.’ When our enemies heard that God had frustrated their plan, we all returned to the wall, each to his work. From that day on, half of my servants worked on construction, and half held the spears, shields, bows, and coats of mail. Those who carried burdens were loaded in such
a way that each labored on the work with one hand and held his weapon with the other. And each of the builders had his sword strapped at his side while he built. So we labored at the work, and half of them held the spears from the break of dawn until the stars came out“ (Nehemiah 4:13-18,21 ESV). This formidable half-warrior/half-worker team was committed to build with a sword in one hand and a trowel in the other.

There are times when a believer’s job is to pray, trust, and wait. But the building of Jerusalem’s wall was not one of those times to kick back and see what God would do.

This was a time for God to see His people use their elbow grease. If they were determined to work, then He would take care of them. This construction was no walk in the park, but it was possible with God’s favor on His valiant crew. He protected them as they labored, and everyone had a part to play in this huge project which was completed in just 52 days.

The Key: Put your nose to the grindstone and God will protect it from getting skinned.

 

Since I began writing this column in April of 2021, the most common question I get is, “Why are we shrinking?”  Many people are quick the lay the blame on any number of local factors, but in my first column, I cited ten primary reasons from my research over the years, which are listed below:

 

1. Rapid industrialization during and after WWII

Small town America led the nation’s growth until 1941, when we ramped up the war effort.  Factories were built in large cities near a concentration of the supply of labor, and urbanism began.

 

2. Change in tax policies to promote manufacturing

With the need to build our war machine came tax incentives from Washington in the form of tax credits and accelerated depreciation to benefit primarily these large city manufacturers; this began the great tax transfer from small town earners to large city companies.  Additionally, the Federal Government is the largest employer in Kansas City. How many Federal workers do you know who live in Bourbon County?

 

3. Agricultural efficiencies and the drop of ag employment

Most of us are aware that it takes far fewer agricultural workers to produce a crop and manage a herd.  Ag employment per acre has dropped precipitously over the last 75 years.

 

4. Rapid transportation: planes, trains and automobiles

Our mobile society makes it much easier for our young people to seek employment is faraway places, primarily big cities near transportation centers.

 

5. Global competition created the need for economy of scale

Due to technology, the world is much smaller now, making it easier for companies to go nationwide/global.  To create efficiencies, industries have consolidated, as evidenced by the over 15,000 banks 40 years ago, condensed to 4,519 at yearend 2020.

 

6. Increase in regulation

New government regulations, such as the Patriot Act, have dramatically increased the cost of doing business, crowding out mom and pop companies in small towns.

 

7. Advent of “Big Box” retailers

Wal-Mart.  Need I say more?

 

8. Access to technology/online shopping

The Internet has revolutionized the world, and retail has paid the price.  This has disproportionately impacted small town America.

 

9. Loss of desire for community

We are devolving from a relationship culture to an entertainment culture.  Give me experiences!  There is nothing to do here!  We are becoming human doings, instead of human beings.

 

10. Entertainment culture

Who are our highest paid citizens?  It is those who entertain us, who seldom live in small towns.  In a capitalist society, money flows toward what we value.

 

There are more, but these are megatrends that have strangled small towns, through no fault of their own.  Other than the energy sector areas, the trends are impacting small towns universally and disproportionally.

 

In many ways, we are a victim circumstances we cannot control.  We can put our best foot forward and distinguish ourselves from other small towns around us who suffer the same fate.  There is no quit in me in an effort to preserve the lifestyle I grew up with

On their drive from Florida to join my son Andy in Iowa, Andy’s wife, Kristen, her mom, Tina, and their 21-month-old daughter Paige spent the night in a hotel.  Before touching anything, Kristen and Tina disinfected the room with Clorox wipes.  When they realized that Paige was not in the room, they ran into the bathroom, only to find her happily minding her own business, dunking Ritz crackers in the toilet. So much for sterile.

Paige loves to dunk…basketballs in a toddler-size net, French fries in ketchup or yogurt or fruit drinks, chicken nuggets in…well, everything.  But she never has shown any interest in toilets, so this came as quite an unwelcomed surprise to her mother and grandmother.

We all know the purpose of toilets…and it’s not to dunk crackers.

“Purpose” is defined as the “reason for which something is done or created; the reason for its existence.”  Everything has a purpose, right?  Okay, probably not ramps like the picture.

Anyway, in my curiosity, I asked some friends if they could think of anything with no purpose.  Many answered “mosquitoes,” with one trivia junkie adding that more people have died of mosquito bites than from all of the world wars combined. (Google claims that 2.7 million people die every year from these pests.)  But no purpose?  Lest we forget, there is that little food-chain thing.

Years ago, Pastor Rich Warren wrote The Purpose-Driven Life, a best-seller.  Readers were challenged to look at their spiritual purpose and answer this question: “Why are you here?”  Some claimed that it was to make money.   Others, to have children.  Many said that it was to leave the world a better place than they found it.  The question is not an easy one.

Warren wanted people to be honest about where glorifying God fits into their purpose.  Let’s say that He’s not central, but is He anywhere on your list of why you exist?  If your answer is no, maybe it’s time to figure out why you think you were created.  Matthew 7:7-11 lets us know where to go to figure that out: Ask, and God will give to you. Search, and you will find. Knock, and the door will open for you.

In the book 66 Love Letters: A Conversation with God That Invites You into His Story, my devotion this morning was about the book of Ruth. In it, author Larry Crabb writes words that he pictures God imparting to him: “You value what I can give you more than you value the privilege and delight of knowing Me and being radically changed by the experience…I am determined to reverse your values

Some day we all are going to have a literal “Come to Jesus” moment where our life’s objective will be revealed to the One who made us.  If we want to make our lives count, then we must allow God to have His way with us…to reverse our values, to help us delight in knowing who He is. Before it’s too late.

Readers, this is serious stuff.  Should we get distracted and live a dunk-the-cracker-in-the-toilet existence, we will miss the main purpose we were put on earth.

 

 

Keys to the Kingdom by Carolyn Tucker

 

On a hot morning in August, I stepped onto the front porch and noticed all the dead fallen leaves from my poplar tree. It was obvious the tree was in distress — more than any of the others in my yard. Although it’s a huge mature tree, perhaps its root system doesn’t go down as deep as the maple and oak trees do. It was such a disturbing sight that I spontaneously prayed, “Lord, please don’t let me dry up spiritually like this tree.” For two summers I have  faithfully watered the Jane Magnolia tree that Aaron and I planted in memory of my husband. This baby tree has a weak root system, so without consistent watering it would succumb to the draught. Because of the tree’s significance, I purposely nurture and care for it so it can thrive and become strong.

 

With all the incoming missiles of the evil one and the bombarding distractions of the world, it takes determined effort to abide in Christ. Believers simply won’t thrive  spiritually without living in Him. Here’s what Jesus had to say about it: “I am the True Vine, and My Father is the Vinedresser. Dwell in Me, and I will dwell in you. [Live in Me, and I will live in you.] Just as no branch can bear fruit of itself without abiding in (being vitally united to) the vine, neither can you bear fruit unless you abide in Me. I am the Vine; you are the branches. Whoever lives in Me and I in him bears much (abundant) fruit. However, apart from Me [cut off from vital union with Me] you can do nothing“ (John 15:1,4,5 AMP). I don’t want to be doing my own thing and be fruitless to boot!

 

In recent years, binging has become rampant in the lives of both believers and unbelievers. The definition of binge is excessive unrestrained activity; uncontrolled indulgence. Binge-watching (to watch many or all episodes of a TV series in rapid succession) has become an acceptable thing. But Jesus wants us to shut every door that offers the enemy access, so we need to be well balanced in all that we do. “And He [Jesus] said to them, ’Keep watch, and pray that you will not fall into temptation. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak’” (Mark 14:38 GNT). I’ll just go out on a limb and say the flesh is stupid too. Our born-again spirit is willing and desires vital union with God, but our flesh is brainless, lazy, and hell-bent on godless and fruitless desires.

 

It’s high-time for Christians to train our flesh and let it know that it’s not in charge! The apostle Paul wrote, “But I discipline my body and keep it under control, lest after preaching to others I myself should be disqualified” (1 Corinthians 9:27 ESV). God gives His people a new heart and a new spirit to live according to His will (God‘s Word). We have what He says we have, so let’s stop whining and acting like we’re not strong enough to take authority over our stupid flesh. Paul wrote to the believers in Corinth, “For the love of Christ controls and urges and impels us….(2 Corinthians 5:14 AMP). There’s enabling power in the love of Christ and the blood of the Lamb. “Yet in all these things we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us” (Romans 8:37 NKJV).

 

It’s easy to be overcome by life’s trials and temptations when our spiritual root system is dry as a bone. When (not if) the bottom falls out of your world, all those hours of binge-watching won’t do you a lick of good. The only way to stand up under the heat and not wilt is to be consistently and intimately connected to the Vine so you can thrive in all kinds of adverse situations. You can be as close to God as you want to be — it’s your call.

 

The Key: Live every day with Jesus’ soaker hose wrapped around your spirit.

The population decline in every Southeast Kansas (“SEK”) county is a disturbing trend and represents our biggest threat.  As a result, there is a shortage of labor in the region, which is a serious hurdle when recruiting employers.

What can we do to attract new labor to SEK?  We have to play both offense and defense at the same time, solving problems while working on the plus side.  Here are some observations.

 

The biggest problem rural America has is the mass exodus of our young people to cities for education, better jobs, and entertainment.  Study after study shows that our young people are far more experiential than we are, preferring the memories of an exotic vacation over the down payment on a home or the security of a vehicle without a monthly payment.  Does it makes sense to go to herculean efforts to attract new people when the natives are not staying?  Perhaps we should spend some of our resources on how to slow this dynamic.

 

Bourbon County REDI hosted the first ever county-wide strategic planning meeting this month, and the group was virtually unanimous as to the biggest barrier to attracting new labor: housing.  A close second is our high taxes, which is part of the cause of our housing issues.  Every government in the county is aware of this and many are focused on solutions.  For example, the City of Fort Scott recently formed a Land Bank to give consideration to vacant properties and those that are in need of attention, and formulate creative solutions.  It is a beginning, and other efforts like this are percolating.  It will take all of us, every government, every civic organization and every citizen working together to make progress.

 

Third, we have to make our communities more attractive to outsiders.  This includes previously mentioned issues such as entertainment amenities, cleaning up blighted properties, holding the line or lowering property tax rates and encouraging collaborative efforts.  Additionally, we must pay attention to our infrastructure, which paints a rather daunting picture of our community to outsiders.  Out-of-town realtors representing prospective buyers are aware of our sewer issues and warn their clients, which has a chilling effect on holding time and prices.  Also, I consider the social media environment in a community as “soft” infrastructure; certainly ours could be kinder.

 

Lastly, we have to think outside the box to opportunities such as immigration.  I am not talking about an uncontrolled mass migration of people; rather, a thoughtful, measured approach such as what has been executed with the three Afghan families in our community.  They have been solid, productive citizens.  We are, after all, a nation of immigrants.

 

These issues represent mega trends that we cannot completely overcome, but perhaps we can differentiate ourselves from other small communities by being the best we can be.  Many of us are committed to working on solutions for this community in which we have chosen to make our permanent homes.  I encourage you to get involved as well.

 

 

 

Two of my closest couple friends have had the same experience in the past month, and it hasn’t been a good one.  Both of them joined couples’ Bible studies, hoping to meet new friends and grow in their faith.

One (“Lisa”) phoned to relive her nightmare with me.  She signed up at her church and was told the leader would contact her with information “soon” as the group was meeting in the next two weeks.      When Lisa heard nothing after eight days, she emailed Rose, the leader, to say how excited she was about joining and asking if there was a scheduled time and date.  My friend was floored by the response: “Well, are we a little impatient?  I have you on the list and will let you know when we are getting together” …which came via an email the following Thursday, announcing a session the next evening.

So as not to appear uninterested, Lisa and her husband, “Greg,” changed their plans to attend.  Besides the leaders, only one other couple was there, and for two hours, the guests listened to Rose and her husband explain how they hadn’t prepared anything so they would just discuss the Sunday sermon and visit which—you guessed it—was all about them.  It was downhill from there.

Today I had lunch with “Julie” and “Steve,” long-time friends who recently joined a mega-church and are loving it.  They too signed up for a couples’ study and were shocked that the leaders never asked them one personal question (where they were from, how long they had been Christians, how they started going to the same church, etc.).  Instead, the couple in charge spent the entire evening talking about themselves.  My friends didn’t go back.

I’ve known people like that.  Not many, but enough to realize that I don’t want them as close friends.  There is no give and take.  Only give.  (Or is it take?)  At any rate, I always question how they review an evening where they haven’t learned one thing about the other person.  Or are they excited because they found an audience willing to listen to their ramblings?

Everybody can teach us something.  Everybody! Proverbs 18:2 cautions us all to be wise and listen: A fool takes no pleasure in understanding, but only in expressing his opinion, a scripture echoed in 18:13: If one gives an answer before he hears, it is his folly and shame. 

As Christians, let us be mindful of the need to value others by learning about their lives.  Maybe, just maybe, we might learn a thing or two.

Keys to the Kingdom

By Carolyn Tucker

Since we hadn’t taken our annual family vacation for four years, the kids and I decided to go big and go to the Bahamas. Being the country bumpkin that I am, I knew before we went that it would be a once-in-a-lifetime destination for me. Some people love the mountains, but I’m a water-and-beach gal. I suppose, if I lived on an island, I could take for granted the beautiful turquoise water, the calming sound of the rolling waves, and the fascinating beaches. But for the ten days we were privileged to be in Grand Bahama, God’s masterful handiwork was awesome and gorgeous every day.

 

Nevertheless, amid the bliss of the Caribbean, I was a stranger on foreign soil. Everything familiar to me had blown out the window of the 737. The only two languages I speak are  redneck and hillbilly. The beautiful Bahamians speak English, but I couldn’t understand most of them because they put their own spin on it. They also drive on the wrong side of the road.  Why? The first taxi transport was comparable to a scary carnival ride. One day I unintentionally stopped traffic from both directions as I attempted to cross the busy street (with no traffic lights or stop signs). Thankfully, the locals are smart and go to great lengths not to run over a tourist.

 

One of the first out-of-the-ordinary things I did was watch “Daddy Brown” prepare my conch salad right in front of my eyes. Before chopping it to smithereens, he hit the conch with his utensil and I watched it quiver. He claimed the added lime juice would “cook it.“ I exclaimed, “That’s raw!“ His response: “We say it’s fresh.” Well, where I come from, we fry our fish and it’s very dead when we eat it. No bones about it, I felt like a duck out of water even though the locals bent over backwards to be kind, friendly, and helpful.

 

One of these days (sooner than I can imagine) I’ll step into a place that’s been prepared for me. Although I’ve never been there before, I’ll feel completely at home. There will be no transition period, no getting used to it, and no awkwardness. Everything will be perfect in the blink of an eye. Why do I believe this? Because Jesus said, “In My Father’s house are many mansions; if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you…where I am, there you may be also” (John 14:2,3 NKJV).

 

Our vacation was a worthwhile experience and made enduring family memories outside the U.S.A. But it was also good to be back home again, even if it is just temporary. Jesus paid the ultimate price for our once-in-a-lifetime passport out of this world. When believers take our last breath, our spirit is carried by angels to that beautiful City of Gold.

 

When I was a young girl playing piano and singing, occasionally my folks and I would sing a “special” together in church. Since Dad was especially fond of songs about heaven,  we sang “I Will Not Be a Stranger,“ written in 1956 by James B. Singleton. Here are some of those lyrics: “I will not be a stranger when I get to that City, I’ve a home on those streets paved with gold; I will feel right at home there in that beautiful “Somewhere” with my loved ones whose memories I hold. Thru the years, thru the tears, they have gone one by one. But they’ll wait at the gate until my race is run. I will not be a stranger when I get to that City, I’m acquainted with folks over there.”

 

The Key: We’re here, but when we get there, we’ll be right at home — where we belong.

Tuesday evening, August 23^rd, marked the first countywide strategic planning meeting by community leaders and private citizens in Bourbon County.  I noted representatives from every government jurisdiction in the county along with major businesses, community organizations, and private citizens.  It was a marvelous event.  I was pleased that his message dovetailed with the origins of Bourbon County REDI: Community trust and collaboration is everything. Here is how we got here:

 

BEDCO, was started in 1992 by community men and women to bring the far reaches of Bourbon County together with a focus on economic development.  Out of this entity was birthed our industrial park, among other initiatives.  Over time, this outstanding organization devolved into a Fort Scott-only effort.  Primarily, it became a sales and management entity for industrial park lots and the dispenser of a trickle of grant money.  Steve Buerge served admirably as its longstanding Chairman, often donating his own money to the cause.

 

Fast forward to 2018 when several of us were lamenting the rising cost of local government compared to the declining number of tax payers.  We started researching jurisdictions that had consolidated counties with cities, or started sharing services to save costs.  We began to uncover some of the internal barriers to progress in our community, the biggest of which is distrust.  We concluded we had work to do before we can even think about any kind of sharing or consolidation.

 

As these discussions ensued in BEDCO board meetings, they authorized the formation of a formal committee to study the idea.  They appointed Mark McCoy and Gregg Motley to kick it off and add members from disparate parts of the county to bring credibility to the process.  We met regularly over more than a year’s period of time, researching ideas, collecting data, visiting other jurisdictions on our own nickel, uncovering pockets of distrust and other barriers within the county, and formulating a plan.  The final product is what now known as Bourbon County REDI, in the form of new organizational bylaws which brings the whole county back into the process.

 

While several people worked on the committee for the year+, here is the group that saw it over the finish line: Mark McCoy, Chairman, Gregg Motley, Vice Chairman, Nancy Maze, Secretary, Greg Fess, Ward Kraft, Larry Jurgensen, Uniontown Mayor, and Larry Martin, Fort Scott Livestock Auction.  I saw Uniontown Mayor Larry Jurgensen last night and he was grinning ear to ear with the realization that the event was the culmination of all our time investments.

 

Bourbon County REDI was born.  It was ordained by BEDCO and funded by Bourbon County and Fort Scott.  It has also been sanctioned by Bronson, Fulton, Mapleton, Redfield, Uniontown, Fort Scott Community College, USD 234, USD 235, and the Fort Scott Area Chamber of Commerce.  This is a mandate to help restore trust and collaboration countywide.  There will be detractors and naysayers, but we have the high ground.  If we stick to our mission and continually work to establish trust and collaboration, the county will succeed together.