Almost 25 years ago, we found ourselves moving into a farmhouse in Brownfield, west Texas. It’s a little farming town where the major employer is John Deere, or at least it was at the time.
As we settled into life there, making friends, plugging into the local church and appreciating the work provided, we came to love the little town. Folks were welcoming and encouraging.
Being homeschoolers, we were grateful to find a few other families who had formed a little co-op and worked together to share resources and help each other. And, of course, deeper friendships developed.
One of those friendships was an incredible godly family. He was an attorney in town, and she was the quintessential housewife. I can’t recall for sure, but I think they had at least eight children. Their home was one of a gentle and loving atmosphere, and their children were a pleasure to be around. And, by all accounts, they had a wonderful testimony in the community.
Having established themselves over several years, the husband decided it was time to step up his involvement in the area and ran for local office. I can’t recall exactly what it was, but would assume it was county attorney, or something along those lines.
Overnight, the color of the town changed. The accusations and blatant lies about this man were horrendous. A man who dedicated his life to God, his family and serving the community was suddenly vilified by some influential people. And, as small towns go, the gossip started.
By the end of the campaign, the family was beaten down. His law practice had suffered, and women who the wife thought were friends shunned her. Not knowing how else to deal with it and sensing the need for a fresh start, they sold their home and moved away. The town of Brownfield was poorer for it.
As they were packing, the family was in tears. They’d made Brownfield their home. They loved it and the people there. But the evil nature of gossip cares not about the hearts of the innocent, but only for the flames of destruction it can fan.
As we’re into election season in our beloved San Saba County, we may start seeing this sort of ugliness rear its head. Things might be said about candidates that haven’t been substantiated. And outright lies could be not just spoken, but believed and shared, taking on a life of their own.
We’ve not been here a terribly long time. But we have felt very welcomed and have come to love San Saba unlike anywhere we’ve lived before, including Brownfield. I remember taking my wife to the airport to go visit the grandkids and her saying, “You know, I just love it here. San Saba feels like home.” Considering how many places we’ve lived, and some of the beautiful country we’ve seen, that’s saying a whole lot more than some may realize.
But rose colored glasses only last so long, and some things not readily seen can become more apparent over time and as circumstances change. And election season is certainly one of those seasons.
Some of the ugliness we’re seeing reminds us of what that dear family went through years ago. The rumors start, the flame is ignited and the winds of gossip carry the fire throughout the community, often repeated by those who have no idea what the truth is, but get caught up in the emotion, and sometimes in a fervor to see their candidate win. A single spark of gossip ignites an inferno.
This form of mob mentality and insidious conniving is a heartbreaking ugliness though. If we let it, it’ll tear at the foundation of what makes San Saba such a wonderful place to live.
Part of the wonderful fabric of San Saba is the heartwarming character she exudes. May we all avoid tearing at that fabric and be instruments to strengthen what is good and wholesome about our beloved community.