One road goes to the heart of Cedarcreek, a south-central Missouri community that doesn’t even have a convenience store or cafe. A post office, volunteer fire department, and thrift store – the latter two housed in the settlement’s former school – are Cedarcreek’s core elements today.
Like so many rural places, people still call it home. And despite those tucked-away spaces hiding in those remote rolling hills, there is a community.
With few ways to connect casually, folks have decided to create neighborly connections instead. Once a month, they walk right in to the One Door Community Church for the monthly firehouse social, a free meal provided by the congregation. Donations, if one is able to leave a few bucks, go to the fire department.
I heard about the relatively new effort through social media, and was so impressed that I had to see it for myself. It was a beautiful day as I wandered into the hills and entered the church during the October lunch, where a couple dozen or so people ultimately dressed and downed brats from crockpots, enjoyed savory soups, and browsed a table of desserts.
It’s a win-win-win for the fire department, the church, and residents, who have very few other opportunities and means to meet up in this rural space.
“We don’t have any place to get together down here,” said Dana Daugherty, who is involved with both the church and the fire department’s friends group. “There’s no place to find out what people’s needs are. So we kind of combined the two efforts to say, ‘We’ll just create an opportunity to get together and see what happens.’”
Lunch began at 11 a.m. with a smattering of folks that grew as noon approached. Attendees went up to the counter and filled their plates before settling in to visit and enjoy lunch.
“I’m always happy to see people get together because I’ve got a big mouth,” said resident Tommy Muller, now in his 80s. His family came to Cedarcreek in the early 1940s when he was just 1 year old, and after some years away as an adult, moved back home in 1995.
Muller sat at the same table with Auston Twombly, who moved to the area and joined the Cedarcreek Fire Protection District about a year ago. It’s Twombly’s first time at the lunch gathering, as he typically works nights. As with so many Ozarks volunteer firefighters, his service is a side project.
“It’s always been something that I wanted to do — to give back to the community,” he said of joining the small local force of about eight firefighters. “It’s been a year and a good ride, and I’m looking forward to more of it. Every call, I’m there – I do what I can.”
It’s an interesting community: Less than 30 miles east of Branson, the tourist town known for country music and family attractions, Cedarcreek feels like a completely different world. In its remote beauty, it connects folks with close-knit connections and deep roots to others who are newer to the community and don’t know everyone yet. There’s the annual deer hunter’s supper each November, but precious few places to visit at other times. Would they meet, save for this monthly church lunch?
“It’s like, ‘Why not do it more often? Why not have more opportunities?’” Daugherty said. “Our idea from the church point of view is to see if people have needs. These guys may not have needs, but they might know a neighbor or somebody – and if we can’t meet their needs, we can probably get them with somebody that can. It’s like a network for our community.”
It’s even a place where a local county official, Shane Keys, regularly visits to connect with his constituents.
“I try to be involved in the community as much as possible, because at a lot of these things you actually get to talk to people,” said Keys, a Taney County commissioner, while eating at one of the tables. “That’s where they’re actually going to bring forth some issues, and some current concerns.”
Keys gave an example of a man at the lunch who voiced concern about an overgrown area of roadway that, in his opinion, had become dangerous. Keys said that he would reach out to the state highway department to try and find a solution.
“We are busy in our office. However, a lot of people will wait till they see you,” he said. “It’s kind of like that personal connection, instead of a phone call.
“That’s where you learn what’s going on in the community.”
Before I talked with any of those folks, I met Moe Anna, the fire department chief and church deacon who happens to be preaching Sunday service at the rural congregation. A fireman’s boot with a “Thank You For Your Donation” note sat on the table next to him; he and Mark Wilbur were taking donations for lunch and sharing information about the fire department.
Both men are transplants to the area, but felt called to get involved as the department needed volunteers. Part of that is logistical – fire and medical responders are desperately needed in this very rural area – but they also see the benefit beyond the literal.
“Without them and without the community, the area’s going to die,” said Anna, who also serves in leadership at the church. “If you don’t have something for them to look forward to or get involved with, because people need to communicate. They need to get together. They need to have fellowship – and by the department and the church, that brings people together.”
The fire department helps fulfill that need, but it doesn’t solve the money challenges and personnel shortages. More firefighters are always a good thing, especially since five of the eight have jobs away from the county, and the other three are of retirement age.
A pressing need for the small fire department is the roof on the former school, which needs to be replaced. The local landmark houses the department and a resale shop. It’s a meeting place, like when a local food pantry comes to share supplies.
Typically open on Saturdays, the thrift store is a resource for locals seeking home items, clothing, and more, but it’s also a resource for families when tragedy strikes.
“Anybody that has a fire down here or has a disaster, we use that to help them get back on their feet with clothing and anything else they might need,” said Anna. “Without that (building), we wouldn’t be able to do that.”
It’s estimated that replacing the roof will cost around $100,000, of which they have about a quarter raised. They’re working as fast as they can, and hope that the grants they’re searching for will help avoid the potentially crushing blow of Mother Nature.
“If that building goes, there goes the fire department, there goes the resale shop,” Anna said, “Because we have no other place to do it.”
As I left the church, which was still filled with diners and volunteers, I pondered the value of their efforts and shared them here as an example of what can be.
There is a lot of work ahead to solve financial needs like that new roof. And as was said, that aging roof is a risk to the community’s future: If something were to happen to the shop, one would like to think that neighbors would rally and rebuild. But we just don’t know for sure.
What people can do is have a plan and work towards it, as the folks in Cedarcreek are doing. Their dedication is commendable.
We can also rethink what it means to build community in rural spaces.
Community building isn’t magic. It’s an intentional and ongoing commitment, a representation of an effort that locals can count on. It doesn’t have to be expensive or complicated. Just a monthly lunch at a small church can work wonders.”
This article first appeared on The Daily Yonder and is republished here under a Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.
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Previously Published on dailyyonder.com with Creative Commons License
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Photo: Kaitlyn McConnell, The Daily Yonder
