Camels in the backyard aren't that unusual in our town.

My husband and I live in a small town. I’ve mentioned this before. 45minutes to the nearest Starbucks. No stoplights. Everybody knows your name (and your business). But a few things here are unique. Unlike the small towns shrinking all around us, ours is growing. It is, in fact, a relatively new town. The community sprouted about sixteen years ago when a wealthy insurance executive decided to do something to help hurting people. What he did was establish a community: farm, town, church, schools, and various businesses. (Plus, a zoo, of course.) It’s a place where people can find a fresh start and eventually establish themselves in a home, a career, and a life.

We are certainly a motley crew. And, we like it that way. We are kind of proud of the fact that the gentle, Cajun usher at the church door spent several decades in a tough southern prison. That the nurse in our office moved here and remarried her ex-husband after seeing how he had changed.  That the dad next door is cheering his son’s basketball team instead of scoring drugs in a dark city alley.

Most of the time, we take these things for granted. We go to work, buy our groceries, pump our gas, and walk our dogs without thinking about the abundant mercy exploding all around us every day. Occasionally, though, we are reminded. Like the day one of my friend’s welcomed her parents for a first-time visit. After a couple of days, the visitors walked toward their car to make the short drive from one end of town to the other.

When they reached the car, the Mrs. tossed the keys to the Mr. and said, “You drive. I’ll wave.”

Yep. It’s just that kind of a place.