Beauty on the Backroads

Stories of grace for life's unexpected turns

Lisa

Beauty on the Backroads {or Why I Changed the Name of my Blog}

I’ve heard that life is like a highway. And it definitely seems like that sometimes. The pace of life swirls around me at dizzying speeds.

We’re all so busy. In such a hurry. Always somewhere to be, something else to do.

I’m a get-to-the-point, get-there-quick kind of girl. I don’t like to waste time on small talk or side trips. If I could figure out a way to do the 800-mile driving trip home without making a single stop, I would take it. At least, I think I would.

Before the day has even started, I’ve got a to-do list running through my head. Some days, my energy matches the list. Other days, like today, I can’t imagine accomplishing anything other than napping or reading or both.

The thought of even sitting down for a few minutes with my coffee and my Bible felt like too much effort. I wanted, instead, to just jump right in to all the things I think I have to do.

But I’m finding that at times like these, when I just want to rush through, check off my lists and get ‘er done, these are the times when I most need to stop. Pause. Sit. Listen.

It is often the harder work.

—

Maybe you noticed, or maybe you didn’t, but I changed the name of the blog this week. Thanks to my super-talented, highly creative friend Alison, the name/theme I’ve been mulling for a year or more finally sees the light of day.

Beauty on the Backroads.

Maybe it’s obvious what I mean by that, but I’m a writer so I’m going to explain it to you anyway.

In this fast-lane life, I’ve discovered beauty on the roads less traveled.

Anderson Aguirre

Anderson Aguirre via Unsplash

I mean this literally.

When we first moved to our current place of dwelling, we found we had numerous options for getting from one place to another. The fastest way is always the highway we can see from our house. And for a while, we took that route because we knew it and it was familiar. But with GPS on our phones, finding the back way, the country roads was a less daunting task than it could have been. I don’t like to be lost, and I am directionally challenged, so GPS is my safety net. (Although it has let me down before.)

These are the roads that offer views of the river. Old houses. Farms. Birds. Animals. Towering trees. Flowers. On the back roads, we’ve found one-lane bridges and covered bridges. We’ve seen farmhouses that make us feel we’ve traveled back in time. Because we live in Amish country, the horses and buggies are more prevalent on the back roads. We’ve discovered parks we didn’t know existed. Businesses we’ve never heard of. Roadside stands we never would have seen.

I won’t argue that you should never take the highway anywhere, but I would advocate for taking the back roads once in a while. You never know what you might see.

—

I mean this figuratively, too.

I used to think life was like a point A to point B kind of journey and the idea was to get from one to the other as quickly as possible. I don’t think I’m alone in this thinking.

Whether I’m driving or grocery shopping or just going about my business, I feel like everyone is hurrying past, getting on to the next thing.

In my 20s, all I wanted to do was get married. When we were married, all I wanted to do was have kids. When we had kids, all I wanted was for them to be out of diapers. And then to go to school. When my husband was in seminary, I just wanted it to be over. Now my kids are in school, my husband is working full-time and sometimes I just want to slow time.

I’ll be 40 in a couple of years, and I’m not in any hurry to get anywhere.

I used to want to have a successful writing career as soon as possible. I have tons of ideas that clog my brain but not enough time, or so I think. And I think I’m running out of time. Won’t the ship have sailed before I even had a chance to board?

But I don’t want to rush. I don’t want a hastily built life. That’s not what lasts in the long term.

So, I’m trying to pay more attention. To ignore the lure of the highway life that tells me I have to get to a certain point by a certain time or I will have failed to live correctly. To recognize that even if I’m not on the road I thought I would be on that there is beauty here.

I’m learning it’s less about where I’m going and when and more about how I’m going.

The back roads are slower. They meander. Sometimes the ups and downs, twists and turns make you sick to your stomach. But sometimes you catch a glimpse of something that makes your heart beat a little faster. Sometimes you get a little bit lost, but then you find your way through it and the next time it happens, it’s not so scary.

—

Beauty on the backroads. More than anything else it’s the theme of what I write these days. Things you read here on the blog, things I’ve yet to release to the world in book form.

I believe it’s okay to take the highway sometimes, and I believe it’s crucial to take the back roads at least once. I believe we’re all headed somewhere, but the way we get there isn’t always clear. Or straight. Or the same as anyone else.

I believe it’s important to tell each other about the beautiful things we see along the way, even if we find ourselves on a road we never meant to travel.

So, what have you seen on the back roads of life?

The kind of book that makes you squirm: Review of Evicted by Matthew Desmond

Some books need to come with a warning. Or a caution. Like, “Do not read this book if you want to be comfortable” or “Warning: Book may make you squirm.”

evictedEvicted: Poverty and Profit in the American City by Matthew Desmond is not a beach read or an entertaining tale. In fact, just looking at the book is intimidating. A 400-page hardcover with 50 pages of end notes is nothing to take lightly. Then again, neither is housing insecurity. (Disclaimer: I received a free copy of the book from the publisher in exchange for my review.)

Desmond’s book shines a light on a housing problem that gets little to no attention: eviction. And though thoroughly researched and at times, academic, the book tells stories of real people living in substandard housing conditions in Milwaukee. Desmond frames their stories with facts and context, and the result is a book that is sometimes hard to read but one that tells a necessary story and offers a practical response.

Although the stories in Evicted take place in an urban setting, the causes and circumstances are not unique only to large cities, nor is it only a big-city problem.

What I appreciate most about the book is that it not only shows us the problem but calls us out to take action. I think some of my favorite words in the whole book are these:

Whatever our way out of this mess, one thing is certain. This degree of inequality, this withdrawal of opportunity, this cold denial of basic needs, this endorsement of pointless suffering–by no American value is this situation justified. No moral code or ethical principle, no piece of scripture or holy teaching, can be summoned to defend what we have allowed our country to become. (p. 313)

Desmond argues that providing secure housing for those who are most vulnerable to eviction is a key component to reducing the effect of other social issues.

… a good home can serve as the sturdiest of footholds. When people have a place to live, they become better parents, workers and citizens. (p. 295)

We have affirmed provision in old age, twelve years of education, and basic nutrition to be the right of every citizen because we have recognized that human dignity depends on the fulfillment of these fundamental human needs. And it is hard to argue that housing is not a fundamental human need. Decent, affordable housing should be a basic right for everybody in this country. The reason is simple: without stable shelter, everything else falls apart. (p. 300)

Some of the living conditions Desmond describes are heartbreaking and shocking. Apartments without working appliances, clogged toilets, no running water going unrepaired for a variety of reasons. And to be fair, Desmond’s research includes talking with and shadowing landlords. He acknowledges that they have rights, too.

There are two freedoms at odds with each other: the freedom to profit from rents and the freedom to live in a safe and affordable home. (p. 308)

I’ve never been a landlord, but we’ve been renters for years. We know some of the difficulties of finding affordable housing and dedicating a large percentage of our income to rent. This book probably won’t be popular with landlords, even good ones. I know people who own property who have been left with property damages and issues as a result of tenants’ actions. Evicted doesn’t offer excuses for situations like these, but it does illustrate how problems compound when housing becomes insecure. And it offers hope for change and evidence of a turnaround in one tenant’s life because of secure housing.

As a former journalist, I’m impressed by Desmond’s research and how he embedded himself in the culture of Milwaukee’s urban poor. Although he says in the end notes that he is not meant to be the star of this work. In the telling, he fades into the background. But what he sees, hears and experiences is valuable for us all.

You might read Evicted and hate it. I actually hope it disgusts you at least a little bit. Because it shows us some ugly things about the way we treat each other. But I also hope it opens your mind a little to how you can be part of the solution.

You can find out more about the author here. And to learn more about how you can help families avoid eviction and get back on their feet, visit www.justshelter.org.