By Tammy Whitaker,
Editor Lost Creek Sentinel
If there is one thing life guarantees, it is change. Most of us say we want change-until it shows up at our doorstep. We want our businesses to grow, our communities to prosper, and our lives to improve. But when growth arrives in the form of new neighbors,
construction projects, unfamiliar faces, or different ideas, we revert back to the NIMBY approach – Not in My Back Yard! For some of us, change is uncomfortable and we long for the status quo – for the comfort of the way things used to be. The thing about change is that it rarely asks for permission. Growing up in rural Kentucky, I learned the value of tradition. The rhythms of farm life were predictable. Seasons came and went. Families knew one another for generations. There was comfort in familiarity. Yet even then, change was always happening. Crops changed. Markets changed. Families grew. Children moved away and, sometimes, came back. The world kept turning whether we were ready for it or not. Truth be told, I’ve always been a bit of a gypsy at heart. While many people find comfort in the familiar, I’ve often found excitement in the adventure that comes with change. New places, new experiences, and new perspectives have a way of teaching us things we could never learn by staying in the same place.
Not long ago, a former classmate remarked that my beliefs had changed significantly since our high school days. My response was simple: “Yes, thank God they have. That means I’ve grown immensely since those years:’ And it’s true. Much of that growth can be attributed to leaving Kentucky and discovering a lesson that has shaped my viewpoints in ways I never dreamed possible. I learned that The values I learned growing up remain an important part of who I am, but traveling beyond the boundaries of my hometown exposed me to different cultures, different experiences, and different ways of thinking. It taught me that good people can arrive at different ways of thinking. It taught me that understanding often begins with listening and possibly agreeing to disagree. Most importantly, it taught me that growth requires a willingness to to challenge our own assumptions. Change has a funny way of doing that. It pushes us beyond what is comfortable and familiar. Sometimes it stretches us. Sometimes it humbles us. But if we’re willing to embrace it, change can also make us wiser, more compassionate, and more capable than we were before. Today, the communities along the 1-76 corridor are experiencing change at a pace unlike anything many of us have seen before. New businesses are opening. Major developments are taking shape. More people are discovering what those of us who have lived here already know-that rural communities offer something special. For some, that change brings excitement and opportunity. For others, it brings uncertainty and concern. Both reactions are understandable.
What matters is how we choose to respond. We can spend our energy resisting every change that comes our way, or we can work together to help shape what that change becomes. Growth does not have to mean losing our identity. In fact, it presents an opportunity to define it more clearly. The values that make our communities strong-hard work, neighborliness, resilience, and a willingness to lend a hand-are not diminished by growth. If anything, they become even more important. The thing about change is that it reveals who we are. When challenges arise, do we retreat into fear or step forward with purpose? When new opportunities appear, do we close the door or invite others to pull up a chair? When our communities evolve, do we simply watch it happen, or do we participate in building what comes next?
The future of our region is being written right now. We may not control every chapter, but we all have a voice in the story. And perhaps that’s the thing about change that matters most: it isn’t something that happens to us. It’s something we choose to navigate together.