Dear Urban Going Rural

my response to a note I received asking for advice on a big move

Hey Stacy,

I’m moving from a city to a small country town next year. My husband desperately misses living in the country, and I have three energetic kids who will benefit from the space to run free on the farm. My husband is re-training as a teacher, so we won’t be full-time farmers, although there are a lot of people there who do. His parents have cattle on their farm, but both have other jobs.

What I’m trying to say here is: do you have any tips for someone who has lived their entire life in the city and is moving to a small town? Like, you need to go to the next town over to get gas and groceries.

Signed,

An Urban Mom Going Rural

Dear Urban Going Rural,

First of all, congratulations—this all sounds exciting and like a blessing for your family! At the same time, I completely understand your fears and reservations about this life-changing move. I won’t lie, it will be scary at first, and probably will be for a while. It’s no small thing to leave the comfort and safety of the only life you’ve known. It will be challenging at times, but I know you’ll find the beauty in your new life, too. There will be days you have to look harder for the light than others. But I promise, it’s still there.

I spent my first 18 years in a small town before moving away for college. My hometown’s population was about 2,500.¹ I spent those years known as “So & So’s” daughter. Everyone knew who my parents were, and most people knew who my grandparents were, too. I only knew a life where word traveled fast, often faster than I could get home.²

After high school, I moved 300 miles away to college, into a dorm filled with hundreds of people. People I didn’t know, and who didn’t know me. There was a sort of freedom in being known as Stacy, rather than by who my parents were. I spent the next decade moving to various small cities and one big city, Washington, DC, during college and for different jobs after graduation. I had dreams of making another move, to an even bigger city.

But, at 29, I got married and moved from a small city to the middle of nowhere, 35 miles from the nearest small town (population: 1,200). I went from being Stacy to “Rich’s wife.” I suppose I could have been offended by this, but I was familiar with how small towns work. And in a tiny community, people notice someone unfamiliar at the grocery store. My husband had grown up in this community, so it made sense that people knew me through him or his parents. (Twelve years later, because I’m in town more than my husband, and am involved at the school, it’s often the opposite, and now I have to introduce him to people.)

I tell you this because one thing people who come from cities to a small town are surprised (annoyed?) by is how much people will know about you. Or at least, how much they seem to know about you. Word travels fast, and you’ll no longer be anonymous. This can be frustrating, especially if it’s something you haven’t experienced before. You’ll feel like people are talking about you. And yes, they might be sometimes. But, for the most part, they mean well. It’s exciting when someone new comes to town! And I imagine that sooner than later, you’ll discover firsthand the heartwarming feeling when a stranger drops everything to help you in an instant, even though you’ve never met.

A few months ago, I was stuck at the car dealership getting my oil changed, and it was taking longer than expected. I had told my kids I would pick them up from school rather than ride the bus home, but I knew I wouldn’t make it on time. And Rich was 40 minutes away at the farm. I quickly texted a friend who I knew would be at school pickup and told her my situation. Without hesitating, she said, “I’ll bring the kids to you!” I don’t know that that would happen in a big city.

Because I live so far from town, the isolation and distance from civilization were among the biggest challenges to adjust to at first. (It’s still a challenge, but now it’s a known challenge, instead of an unknown.) I don’t think you’ll be living as rurally as I am, but loneliness doesn’t discriminate based on location.

If you’re a believer, find a church sooner rather than later. Say yes to the invites for coffee after the service, even if you’re peopled out (just me?) and are ready for your comfy pants at home.

When someone stops you at the grocery store and says, “Hey, you’re So & So’s daughter-in-law, right? I’ve heard about you!” Your initial instinct might be that this feels intrusive. You might bristle at their familiarity toward you. (Or maybe, you’re an extrovert and this won’t bother you at all!) It is a weird feeling when someone knows who you are, but you don’t know who they are. I urge you to smile and say, “Yes, I am! What was your name?” (Unless they seem like a legit creeper, then keep walking.)

In the future, there will be the inevitable time(s) you’re on the side of the road with a flat tire. I’ve heard people talk about calling roadside assistance, but that isn’t an option. You’ll either have to fix it yourself (if you don’t already know how to change a flat, this is a good time to learn) or wait for a stranger to stop and help you.

It will be one of those strangers from the grocery store.

If you don’t already meal plan, you’ll need to start. I meal plan every week, and pick up groceries from the closest city (50 miles away) once a week. A big learning curve when I moved out here was that when I’m cooking and realize I’m missing one ingredient, I cannot quickly run to the grocery store to get it. Over the years, I’ve gotten better at knowing what to keep stocked in the pantry, so that I always have the basics.

You didn’t say how small the town you’re moving to is, but I’m going to assume that takeout and delivery are no longer options. This does take some getting used to, and I won’t lie, there are still times I wish I could pick up the phone and have dinner on our doorstep in 20 minutes. Years ago, I asked my husband, “What do you think would happen if I called and asked for a pizza delivery?” I was joking, of course. But he replied, “They would laugh and hang up on you.”

Now, I try to have at least one frozen pizza on hand for the nights when I don’t feel like cooking. Breakfast for dinner is another go-to when I don’t want to cook, or when the fridge is empty.

Also, remember to fill up with gas every time you go to the next town over for groceries. (If my husband is reading this, I know he’s rolling his eyes because I am TERRIBLE at remembering to do this.)³ I don’t know why I sometimes forget to check the fuel gauge. I am who I am. (In my defense, I’ve NEVER run out of gas. Close, yes. Out, never.) My advice: do as I say, not as I do.

There will be many days you miss your old life. You’ll miss the city you left in the rearview mirror. And, if you’re like me, when you visit, you’ll see everything through rose-colored glasses—only remembering the wonderful parts of city life. You’ll forget about the traffic and cost of living. But the people, your friends, are the top things you miss. It’s hard, but you’ll make new friends, and hopefully, you’ll stay friends with your old ones; you’ll just see them less often. The relationships will change, and you will too. You’ll grow and change and stretch in ways you never imagined were possible.

If you only take one piece of advice from me, let it be this: embrace it all, jump in with both feet. There will be challenging issues that come up, bouts of loneliness, and missing your old life—and you’ll tackle them one at a time. But there are really great things about small-town/rural living, and I can’t wait for you to see them all for yourself.⁴

In the end, it’s always about the people—there are just fewer of them in a rural place. But I’ve learned that quality matters more than quantity. And you’re going on this adventure with your most important people.

You got this.

With love,

A Former City Dreamer Gone Rural

P.S. Have you ever let a calf suck on your fingers? If not, you’ll need to do that as soon as you can. You’ll fall in love with their big lashes, and there’s nothing more amazing than witnessing a calf being born (your kids will be astounded!) and then watching the calf take its first wobbly steps.⁵

P.P.S. Thank you to the reader who messaged me with this question. I responded to her message privately, but after weeks of feeling uninspired to write (and taking a needed break from Substack), her question inspired me to sit down and write an even more thoughtful response. I told her I was going to make this post, but would remove any identifying information. I’m honored she thought of me and trusted me with her questions. I can’t wait to hear how her big move goes! 💛 Hopefully, I’ll be back soon with my monthly newsletter.

1. Over the years, I’ve heard people say, “I grew up in a small town; there were only 20,000 people!” Umm… that is not a small town for those of us who grew up in a small town. ;) Your town is where we small-town kids went for entertainment and adventure.

2. My sophomore year of high school, I got a ticket for “willfully refusing to obey an officer.” My dad saw the whole thing go down on Main Street. To this day, I still maintain my innocence, sticking by my non-guilty plea. But it was my word against the cop. The judge was a family friend, but that didn’t keep me from paying the fine. See? Small towns. (Despite the name of the offense, it was quite tame. And I think the fine was $50.) 😂

3. The other morning, while I was typing away on my laptop, Rich asked, curiously, “What are you working on?”
Me: “Oh, nothing. It’s private.”
He laughed, “Private, huh?”
Me: “Yes, private. Private for the internet.”
The first rule of Write Club is, we do not talk about Write Club. Or was it Fight Club? Same thing.

4. Country sunrises? The best.

5. Amazing, but also slimy. And lots of fluids. But the miracle of new life is never lost on me.