Longing For The Prairie

I didn’t expect a 1970s show about a prairie family to feel like oxygen. But here I am, rewatching Little House on the Prairie, and something in me exhales every time the camera pans across that field. It reminds me of the freedom of my childhood. Of when I didn’t think there was anything holding me back from being whatever and whoever I wanted to be. Of a time when love and simplicity was enough. A time that is simply.. gone.

Little House was the first book I read that wasn’t a little golden book or a picture book when I was a kid. Multiple Halloweens I dressed up like Laura Ingalls. She was one of my favorite people. Along with Anne Shirley and Jo March. Those three are my book heroines so when Laura showed up on my TV too, I was beyond happy. I did watch this show throughout my whole childhood. But when I go to comfort myself with a show, it’s not usually this one. It’s usually Gilmore Girls. And honestly, I could write a whole series of why that is. As an adult, I want to be Lorelai Gilmore. That hasn’t changed. It never will. Gilmore Girls just didn’t feel right for this season in my life.

Maybe it’s the state of our country right now. Or maybe it’s my life. But I wanted to watch Little House right now. As chaotic as it can be, there is still so much grounding in it. People were there for each other. Faith wasn’t hidden. People were kind. And if they weren’t, the whole town would come together to help the one who was wronged. And if someone had a hardship happening, they would have help. It was very rare for anyone to be existing in loneliness. And if they were, it was very likely that Laura would find them, befriend them, and make them feel some happiness. Life was hard back then, but they made it work. And they were grateful.

Maybe I’m so drawn to it right now because of the quiet of it. Not a cell phone in sight. Life had clearer rhythms. Work was work. Home was home. Roles were understood. They owned just what they needed. (Unless they were the Olsens of course). Everything was just still. And in the moment. To know what was going on in the world, or even the next town over, they had to wait for a telegraph to be sent.

Change did happen but they were always confused by it while also being intrigued. Like the railroad. Can you imagine what it must have felt like to see that happening? First people come in and tear up the land so they can start building weird looking tracks. And then there is a giant metal vessel that shoots smoke up in the air and is very noisy running through the country. That had to have been scary. But also exciting. In today’s world, there’s something new every day. It’s barely noticed anymore.

I live in nature. In my house it’s all around me. I look out my windows and it’s mostly trees. But once I leave and head toward town, there are a lot of trees being knocked down to widen roads, or make way for new businesses. And it breaks my heart. I am an animal empath. Is that a thing? I don’t know. But I always worry about nests. Birds. Squirrels. I hate seeing trees come down. Humanity has destroyed our planet and the poor creatures God created. On the Prairie, they were surrounded by nature and loved it. And respected it by only using what they needed.

Maybe that’s why they had such an easier time having faith. I’m not lacking faith but I have been lost for a long time. Take church for example. In Little House, the community goes to one church. In present day, there are churches one very street and they all seem to teach their own version of the Bible. I don’t know how we got here. I’ve been looking for a church home for seven years now. What happened to doing more than greeting people at the door? I even got involved in a church in the next town over and I had to make the decision to leave due to the way I was treated a few too many times. That isn’t what the Bible calls us to do. I’d love a small core community of people that care about each other and just go to church. And congregate on Sundays.

As I watch this show, it strikes me that a wooden cabin feels more stable than my fully wired home. I know what it is. It’s the love Ma and Pa have for each other. And for Jesus. It’s the love Laura, Mary and Carrie have for each other and later on, for Albert. It’s the lack of screens and staring at those instead of looking at each other. Home is supposed to feel safe. And the people in it are supposed to be present for one another.

Life then wasn’t all about money. It wasn’t about working constantly. It was about loving Jesus and each other.

Maybe I don’t actually want to live on the prairie.
Maybe I just want a life where love feels louder than noise.
Where faith is visible.
Where home feels steady.
Where people look at each other instead of through each other.

Maybe that’s what I’m really searching for.

Listen to the song that goes with this post.