Contentment in Simple Living: A Return to the Country

Editor’s note – This piece comes from a writer who traded suburbia for a shack on a dirt road, and found something worth naming along the way. She calls her guiding voice a ‘higher power’ who we know is God and the Lord Jesus Christ living in and through the Holy Spirit. We’re running her reflection because that kind of contentment is worth noticing.

Defining My Own Version of a Country Girl

I’m a country girl. But not necessarily the kind that comes to mind when you read that statement.

On the heels of Dolly Parton’s recent passing, this story feels appropriate. I don’t own any farm animals — just two cats. I enjoy country music occasionally, but my taste in music is actually quite eclectic, and country is only one of many genres in my playlist shuffle. I don’t live in Texas, drink whiskey, or ride a cowboy.

But I did grow up in a white-privileged, middle-class ranch-style home out in the boonies. For those not familiar with that term, Collins Dictionary defines “the boonies” as an informal American slang term that means “a remote, wild, or rural place far away from any large cities.” I absolutely adored hiding in the tall grass and climbing on top of the woodshed to eat oranges from the grove and survey the land while employing my wild child’s imagination. I also grew up on the back of steel horses (think Hondas and Harleys) as opposed to the warm-blooded mammal kind. As an adult, I still identify as happiest when immersed in nature.

Editor’s note – Notice how she strips away the stereotype before telling us who she actually is. That refusal to wear a label that doesn’t fit is worth more attention than it usually gets.

The Transition from Suburbia to the Country

Then I married my childhood sweetheart and moved to Los Angeles, California. Talk about culture shock. The fact that it took me an hour to commute less than 15 miles on the 405 freeway to UCLA for graduate school was a different kind of wild.

Fast-forward through two kids, a divorce, more kids, extended family through each of my children’s marriages, a beautifully blended family with my former husband’s new wife and my current husband’s family, plus five grandkids and counting… a lot has changed in this country girl’s life.

Finding Peace in the Hills

Yet somehow, after decades of living in suburbia, I finally made it back out into the country. The reason I mentioned growing up in a “white-privileged,” middle-class home earlier is that it’s relevant to the fact that I recently opted to live in a “shack” in the middle of a bunch of dry dirt trails. It’s actually pretty nice as far as manufactured homes go, but the snob in me never thought I would live in a house that was built off-site and then set onto a piece of land. My ego and I had to get past that pride and “suck it up, buttercup” in order to afford the peaceful sanctuary of residing in the middle of what I like to refer to as God’s country.

I promised not to write about religion for this publication, and I will honor that commitment because I am a woman of my word.

Turns out, it’s not as easy as I had thought because my higher power is everything to me. Every relationship, decision, dilemma, and experience leading to a potential story gets filtered through that lens. It’s quite a revelation to discover that whenever I face a problem to solve or a story to write, I feel at a loss without consulting my number-one resource — which is definitely not AI.

So here I am, not quoting from my favorite literary work of all time and not inviting the colorful commentary of folks who do or don’t share my core beliefs. Instead, I am basking in the sunlight like a lizard on a boulder, soaking in all the glorious freedoms I refuse to take for granted in this brief, beautiful life.

“Find out who you are and do it on purpose.” — Dolly Parton

This quote by Dolly Parton on authenticity pretty much sums up what I am all about. Once again, it is challenging for me to write about my purpose without mentioning content related to the “R-word” (religion), but I’m giving it my best shot.

My Legacy

I am a flower quickly fading, a vapor in the wind — lines from a song playing in my head right now. I hope to leave a legacy of love and of loving others well. This new 30-year mortgage on a shack in the hills isn’t much of a financial asset to leave behind for my kids and grandkids, but that’s okay. They have their dad for a financial legacy; this country girl in the boonies intends to leave faith, hope, and love as a priceless legacy when my time comes to take my last breath.

Editor’s note – A thirty-year mortgage on a shack won’t impress an estate planner, but faith, hope, and love outlast whatever we manage to leave behind financially. That’s worth remembering next time we measure a life by its assets.

In the meantime, you can find me attempting to co-exist with the local wildlife (wild burros are my favorite) — mostly trying to convince the neighborhood coyotes that my two indoor cats are strictly off the menu. Between chasing off curious critters and learning the fine art of navigating dirt roads without losing a hubcap, every single day out here brings a brand-new adventure. There is an undeniable magic in sipping morning coffee on a boulder while watching the sun rise over the hills, proving that the simple, unglamorous life might just be the best luxury of all.

So here’s to this cozy little shack in the middle of nowhere and the bright, dusty horizon ahead. It may not be a sprawling mansion, but it’s peaceful, authentic, and undeniably home. As I step into this next joyful chapter, I’m keeping my hiking boots dusty, my heart full, and a steady sense of gratitude for every winding road that brought me right back where I belong.

A Word from the Editor
Scripture praises the quiet life over the impressive one: “to aspire to live quietly, and to mind your own affairs, and to work with your hands” (1 Thessalonians 4:11). A small home on a dirt road isn’t much of a testimony until you notice what’s being built there – gratitude untethered from circumstance and a legacy measured in something other than net worth.

Editor Comment: The peace you describe in that little shack echoes what Scripture keeps teaching: contentment is a matter of the heart, not the square footage. You choose faith, hope, and love as your legacy instead of a bigger inheritance, and that reminds readers that what outlasts us is never what we owned.

This article appeared on Medium and is reprinted with modifications and by permission.