(From the book Pause: The Secret to a Better Life, One Word at a Time by Chris Maxwell)
“There’s not really much here. Not very much up here, at all.”
The nice lady at the convenience store had good intentions. Hearing about my departure from Orlando and my arrival in north Georgia, she sensed a need to apologize for smallness, for nothingness, for not “really much.”
She wondered if I would be okay around a place not as crowded, at a pace not as rushed, in a community not as modern or large or busy. She wasn’t sure how I would handle the change. She assumed I was disappointed because of departing so much and moving into not much at all.
But I’d reached different conclusions about my new home. I saw much. Very much.
When my wife and I moved in 2006, it didn’t go the way we wished. There were a few health concerns, missing many friends, a house not selling, a vehicle crashing, and the adjustment to new positions. Everything had not been easy. But when I accepted that this location was God’s best for my life, I could see all of the unappreciated beauty. I wanted to edit the lady’s behind-the-counter comment. Let her keep the southern drawl while changing the words:
“There’s much here. Very much up here.”
I saw life in the people of this small rural town. Sad, happy, young, old, confident, fearful. People. Real people. And I liked them. Sharp turns and small hills, barking dogs and smelly chickens, lightning bugs and friendly people: I saw life here.
I see life here.
For each of us, let us accept and experience much life—“really much”—wherever we live. Do not let these days rush past us and leave us missing out on the “much” that is available.