Sulfur Rock. Somewhere, between Batesville and Newark, a small town composed of a meager population of 421 people strives to amplify its existence. The town consists of a school, a few houses, a post office, and acres upon acres of open land, each square foot capturing the original beauty of the earth as God intended it to be. Dragonflies dive between the knee-high grass like kamikaze pilots, and it’s not uncommon to see a fire in the distance; the silhouettes of family and friends wrapped around its warmth.
The simplicity of life in this small town has a way of drawing people together. No social structure exists. No restraints to constrict one’s choices. Everyone becomes a person, not a label. Each individual knows the other and waves as they pass on the streets, usually exchanging a few words along the way. Children can ride their bikes on the sidewalks with no fear of being harmed. There are no traffic jams, no horns blaring. Instead, there are birds chirping, and crickets singing. There is laughter echoing around street corners as kids are free to play while their parents converse with backs turned, full confidence that no harm will come to their child, creating a sensation of serenity, peace, and security.
After a while in Sulphur Rock, one begins to notice something else unusual.
A lack of limits and fear.
The unity and strength within the town is so thick, its palpability didn’t just reach its citizens. And the acres of open land are an illustration of the greatness of its creator, taking away any futility or fear of failure.
Ultimately, Sulfur Rock stands as a beacon to all as a place with no confinements and no limits. A place to spread wings, and fly.
