The Ministry of Shopping Local
What loving our neighbors looks like in these tough financial times
By Camerin Courtney
My notion of the Good Samaritan’s story was so mired in flannel-graph memories that I nearly missed it when I found myself in the middle of this scenario. I didn’t realize at first that my business-owner friends were my bruised and bleeding neighbors. That I had the chance to be the Good Samaritan. And that ministry could happen with potstickers and cheese plates.
You see, I eat out a lot. Nearly every Thursday night you can find my friend Kathryn and me at the Thai restaurant that splits the difference between my apartment and her lingerie store, Knickers. We’re resident/retail neighbors in the quaint downtown of our Chicago suburb. And we’re also regulars at several of the restaurants in our ’hood.
It’s not that we have so much extra money to eat out with, it’s just that as working-girl singletons, we’ve found these end-of-the day gatherings at our local haunts to be a source of much-needed community. And we typically just order appetizers to keep both the cost—and, when we’re good, the calorie count—low.
When we darken the door of Thipi Thai, the wait staff smiles and waves and starts preparing our usual: a Thipi platter (a plate of deep-fried Thai yumminess) and two fruity drinks. We haven’t ordered in months. They just know. They know what we want. And they kind of know us.
And in the course of the past year, we’ve kind of gotten to know them. And Michel, the heavily accented French chef who runs Bistro Monet across the street. And Lisa and Luis, the married couple who run Cab’s, the wine bar around the corner from my home.
Because my friend Kathryn is also a local business-owner, I get to hear all the local news, politics, and gossip as she and our restaurateur friends swap stories. So over pot stickers and cheese plates I’ve gained friends and gotten an education about what it’s like to be a small business owner in suburbia today.
As you can well imagine, it ain’t pretty.
I’ve heard slow business days acknowledged in hushed tones and with somber expressions. I’ve helped brainstorm creative events to lure in new customers. I’ve listened to these friends bemoan local tax increases to help balance our town’s budget deficits—increases these shop owners fear will scare off already disappearing customers. I’ve learned that it’s nearly impossible for most small business owners to get a loan these days to help ride out the tough times.
I’m no economist and I know I’m seeing only a small sliver of the overall economic picture, but the impression I’ve gotten is that most small business owners these days are gritting their teeth and holding on to their businesses—and their livelihoods—for dear life.
They may not be bloody and bruised and left for dead in a ditch somewhere, but I’m sure there are days when they feel that way. And because their pain isn’t as visible, I almost missed what I was seeing—which Bible story I’d found myself in. These are my hurting neighbors. And I have a chance to be the Good Samaritan.
Oh, I’m not trying to over-spiritualize my habit of eating out too much. It’s just that getting to know these people has really humanized the dire economic picture painted on the evening news. It’s one thing to hear about the plight of small business owners (those not likely to get tax breaks and stimulus money), it’s another thing altogether to know their names are Lisa and Michel and to swap stories with them regularly over pear-pecan salads.
And knowing them has helped me see how much more vulnerable they are than larger businesses. I’m an admitted TJ Maxx junkie and was once a regular at the carside to-go service at the Macaroni Grill across town, but I’d be really sad if these national chain stores were all we had. They don’t have quite the soul or flavor of a mom-and-pop run business.
I’ve also had my eyes opened to the power of our dollars. As they become scarcer in these tough economic times, they also become more precious. I want to spend the money God entrusts to me wisely—both for myself as the consumer and for others who provide these goods and services.
So when I spend my money on the inevitable family birthday presents and Christmas gifts, I’ve started looking in my own backyard first: at my friend Kathryn’s store, at the jewelry shop up the street, at gift cards at the local nail salon. And when Kathryn—and my other friends—and I connect over food, as we often do, we try to hit the local spots regularly.
Because I love the flavor these places bring to my town. And I love the people who run them. And not just because my Bible instructs me to.
I know not everyone has literal shop-owner neighbors like I do. But we all have friends and neighbors who are part of our local commerce. And I’m beginning to wonder if loving our neighbors in these tough economic times might include a concerted effort to shop local.
My measly cheese plate orders won’t save the day. But they’ll help. And if we all do our little part in this tough economy—spending intentionally, donating generously, listening intently, praying ceaselessly—we all just might survive. If not financially stable, then at least stronger as people, as neighbors, as communities. As Christ-followers and Christ-representatives.
