I have been highlighting the scenes from my new neighborhood. My tractor-lovin’ neighbor, Mr. Wright. The sweet old ladies who check up on Jennifer and the boys. (They keep track of us when we are at home or away.) But this week, my Tale from a Small Town has a darker side.
In Thursday’s CKNJ (Central KY News Journal), we saw a story that we are not too happy about concerning our neighborhood. (Actually one of the older ladies told Jennifer about it. There is quite a gossip circle with these women.)
Three houses down from us, a man was arrested with possession of cocaine, prescriptions drugs, a stack of rolled 20 dollar bills, the whole bit. Three houses down. Less than a hundred yards away from our house lives a DRUG DEALER. You can read the entire story here.
I know these kind of things happened when we lived in Northern KY. I am sure I had neighbors who were involved in crime and civil disobedience. But this one kinda made me feel weird. When you are in a small town, everything is so compressed and tight. Social distance is a thing of the past; up-close and personal is the norm.
The man will stand before the judge on Wednesday. I hope he is put away or sent to rehab. God has prompted me to pray for him as I walk by his house each morning on my way to work. I pray God will intersect in his life and bring him to a point of new birth and sobriety.