Episode 157: How to Build Community in Rural Life: Real Connections for Modern Homesteaders

INTRODUCTION

Hi, and welcome back. Before we jump in, I just want to remind you that you can get all my Homestead Science books on my website. These are designed to teach agriculture to today’s youth and aspiring homesteaders through small-scale farming, self-sufficiency, and real-life application. If you’re a school or a co-op, feel free to reach out to me directly.

Today I want to jump right into a topic I think is really important in the homesteading world: community.

About three weeks ago, I sat on a panel with Ruthann Zimmerman and a couple of other wonderful women at an event. We got asked a question that keeps coming up lately: How do you build community in homesteading, or in rural life in general?

And I want to sit with that today.

WHY “COMMUNITY” IS SUDDENLY SO HARD

For a lot of people who move from cities to rural areas, isolation hits harder than expected.

When you grow up rural — like I did — you learn early that you have to build your own connections. You’re not surrounded by people. There is no “default social life.” You learn who you can count on. You learn who you can trust. You build that.

For someone moving from a city, where you’re constantly around people, that’s not obvious. You might have had coworkers, gym friends, school pick-up friends, neighbors in the apartment next door, other parents at the playground. You were constantly in shared space.

Out here? You might not even be able to see your neighbor’s house.

And most new homesteaders are not 20-year-olds in college going to class every day and naturally making friends. A lot of you are:

• young families with little kids,
• stay-at-home moms,
• retired couples,
• single-income households where one parent is managing the home, animals, and kids all day.

You’re not standing on the soccer sidelines every week. You’re not chatting at school pickup. You’re not at the office copier every morning. So the usual “default” relationship pipelines just don’t exist.

That’s real. That’s not you doing it “wrong.” That’s just rural life.

THE COVID EFFECT NOBODY TALKS ABOUT

Now layer this on top of what happened the last few years.

A lot of homesteaders were born (or accelerated) during the COVID era. Everyone was told to stay apart. So people went online to survive socially.

That’s where a lot of you found your people:

• in private Facebook groups,
• in Telegram chats,
• in a Discord for raw milk people,
• in YouTube comments under someone teaching you to can carrots.

You built emotional safety with someone who lives three states away, and at the same time maybe you lost emotional safety with the sister down the street.

For a lot of families, especially in 2020–2022, real-world community split. That split wasn’t always “political.” Sometimes it was lifestyle.

You said:

• I don’t want my kids glued to a tablet.
• I don’t want to depend on trucks and grocery stores that can empty overnight.
• I don’t want to live somewhere where I don’t know my neighbor’s name.
• I don’t want my job to own me.
• I don’t want my kid to think the only “safe adult” is a government office.

And you paid for saying that. You lost friends. You got called crazy. Some of you went no-contact with family. Some of you moved.

That’s the “crab in a bucket” problem. Put a bunch of crabs in a bucket. If one tries to climb out, the others drag it back in. Humans do the same thing. Especially in struggling communities, if you try to change your life, somebody will try to pull you back because your change makes them uncomfortable.

That happened on a huge national scale. A lot of people tried to “get out of the bucket,” and their old circle clawed at them for it.

So people went and built new circles online.

NOW WE’RE IN A NEW PHASE

Fast-forward to now.

People are trying to settle into a physical place again. You’re on land. You’ve got animals. Maybe you pulled your kids from public school and started homeschooling. Maybe you bought a pressure canner. Maybe you raise meat birds. Maybe you’re living the life you prayed for.

But now you’re realizing something:

You don’t actually want to live on YouTube.

You don’t want your only friends to be in an app.

You don’t want the only person you can ask, “Can you watch the kids while I run one to urgent care?” to live in Tennessee when you’re in Idaho.

You want:

• someone to help pick apples and split the haul,
• someone to sit at your kitchen table while you pressure can venison so you’re not doing it in silence,
• someone who can come over if you say, “Hey, I think my kid twisted his wrist and my husband’s out of town,”
• someone who can pray with you without turning it into a Facebook post.

That’s real. That’s holy, even.

The problem is: a lot of people moved to their rural “forever place” before they built those in-person roots.

And now they don’t know how to start.

LET’S TALK ABOUT THE DARK PART: ISOLATION

We can’t talk about rural community without talking about what happens if you don’t have one.

The reality in rural America is that loneliness and mental strain can go hard, fast.

In rural areas, suicide rates climb faster than in metro areas. That’s tied to:

• isolation,
• financial volatility,
• the pressure to “be tough,”
• stigma around asking for help,
• lack of accessible mental health services,
• and the weight of feeling like “it’s all on me.”

Among farmers, ranchers, ag managers, the suicide rate is several times higher than the general population. That number has been reported around 3.5 times higher.

That is not small. That is not “it happens sometimes.” That is a crisis.

Why bring that up in a conversation about making church friends and finding a 4-H group?

Because this isn’t just “Wouldn’t it be fun to have a canning buddy?”
This is: Having support literally keeps people alive.

Especially men who feel like, “If I can’t provide, I have no worth,” and especially moms in postpartum seasons quietly drowning because they don’t want to “bother anyone.”

So I’m going to say this clearly:

If you are in a headspace where you feel crushed, ashamed, panicked, or like you’re running out of rope — please ask for help. From someone in your church. From a neighbor. From the VFW. From a pastor. From me. Don’t white-knuckle it in silence.

And if you’re truly in crisis and you don’t even know where to start in your own area, reach out and I will help you find someone near you. I mean that.

Now — let’s climb back up to the practical, day-to-day version of this.

Because most people listening aren’t thinking “I’m in crisis.” You’re thinking, “I just want a friend to grocery shop with. I want someone in my life again.”

So let’s talk about that.

WHAT COMMUNITY ACTUALLY LOOKS LIKE OUT HERE

Here’s the beautiful part about rural life that nobody advertises: when you’re honest that you need something, people usually show up.

When my youngest was born early, I had a high-risk pregnancy and ended up three hours from home in the hospital. We’ve got a pile of kids. COVID shutdowns hit while I was still in the hospital. My husband was trying to be everywhere at once. We were still new in town.

And this community stepped up.

• People organized a meal train.
• My kids had a hot dinner every night.
• Other moms checked on my kids at the house and on the farm.
• The local guys made sure we had basics like bread and peanut butter.
• People filled our freezer with casseroles for weeks after we came home.
• Folks who barely knew us acted like we’d lived here forever.

It felt like, “Oh. We’re home.”

That’s what real community does. That’s why you want it. That’s why you miss it if you don’t have it yet.

Now, years later, sure — we’ve had small-town drama. Teenagers dating and breaking up. Clubs that didn’t vibe. Personality clashes in volunteer groups. That’s just how humans are.

But I would still never trade this community for anything. Because when life goes sideways out here, people don’t say, “Text me if you need anything!” just to sound nice. They mean it.

If you called and said, “We can’t afford wood this winter, and I physically can’t get it cut,” somebody out here will make sure you’re warm. One way or another.

That is not something you can buy.

OKAY, SO HOW DO I ACTUALLY START MEETING PEOPLE?

This is the part where a lot of you freeze. Because the first step feels awkward. But you only have to be brave for like five minutes.

Here are ways to start building real-life, in-person local relationships (even if you’re shy, homeschooling, busy, or way out of town):

1. Go to church.

Even if you haven’t gone in a while. Even if you’re not sure you’re “that kind of religious.” I’m serious.

Why church?

• There’s an automatic weekly touch point.
• They’re usually thrilled to see a new face.
• You don’t have to “join” anything to show up.
• There are built-in activities for kids and adults.

And if you’re already part of a church but nothing happens outside Sunday morning? Suggest a potluck. Suggest a hymn sing. Suggest a chili night. The fastest way to create community is to create excuses to linger.

If faith spaces really aren’t an option for you, look for the closest thing in feel: grange halls, community halls, volunteer fire departments, shooting clubs, American Legion/VFW, quilting circles, local preparedness groups, etc. The principle is the same: recurring in-person human contact.

2. Get your kids in something.

If you homeschool, it can be harder to “bump into” people because you’re not in a school building every day. But you still have options:

• 4-H
• Trail Life / American Heritage Girls
• Scouts (if that aligns with you)
• County homeschool co-ops
• County extension youth programs
• Youth sports (in many states, homeschoolers can still play school sports)
• Church youth groups

You’re not just “dropping them off for socialization.” You’re also meeting the other parents. You’re signaling to each other: hey, we’re the same kind of people.

3. Start bartering.

Barter builds trust faster than small talk.

Put a little sign out: “Eggs for sale” / “Raw goat milk for animal feed only” / “Tomatoes, barter welcome.” Post in a local bartering or “farm swap” group. Go to the feed store bulletin board.

You will meet people that way. And those people know other people. That’s how food webs become community webs.

4. Talk to vendors at the farmers market.

Not just “Here’s $8, thanks, bye.”

Ask:

• “Are you local or did you drive in?”
• “Do you ever sell bulk?”
• “Do you know anybody around here doing XYZ?”

Vendors are often connectors. They know who’s got hay. Who’s got hogs. Who’s got chicks. Who needs help. Who’s solid. Who to avoid. That’s the good stuff.

5. Use the community hall / grange / fire hall.

If your area has a community hall, grange, volunteer fire department, senior center, etc., you can do a TON with that:

• Host a seasonal rummage sale (we’re doing that).
• Host a potluck.
• Host a pressure-canning day.
• Host a seed swap.
• Host a lasagna/tamale day where everyone batch cooks and splits the freezer meals.

People want this. They just need one person to say, “Saturday at 2, bring onions and a cutting board.”

If your area has a Ladies Homestead Gathering chapter, go. If your area doesn’t have one, you can start one. (And if you can’t start one yourself, sometimes you can at least help someone else get it off the ground. It only takes one “Yes, I’ll back you up” to make a new local chapter real.)

6. Invite someone over on purpose.

This one feels big, but it’s actually simple.

Text another mom (or dad, if you’re a dad) and say:

• “Hey, I’m canning apples on Thursday. Want to come help and take some jars home? The kids can run around while we work.”

Most people will say yes to that. You’re not asking them to “hang out” and make small talk. You’re inviting them to do something useful and go home with food. That is the rural equivalent of gold.

7. Fill your schedule with one “out” day.

If you homeschool, bake this directly into your rhythm: one day a week is not “school,” it’s community.

That day can be:

• the potluck day
• the park day
• the hike day
• the go-help-someone-with-their-fence day
• the 4-H meeting day
• the grocery run with a friend day

That is still education. That is still “homeschool.” Social competence, service, agriculture, foraging, first aid, cooking — that’s all school, and frankly, it’s the part they’ll remember.

YES, IT’S AWKWARD AT FIRST

Walking into a room where you don’t know anyone is uncomfortable. Asking, “Need help with firewood?” feels intrusive. Telling someone, “Honestly I’m lonely here,” feels vulnerable.

But everybody else in your area had a “first time showing up,” too.

Nobody is judging you for needing people. Most folks out here are just relieved someone else finally said it out loud.

Your first step doesn’t have to be perfect. It just has to be real.

WHY THIS MATTERS

When we say “build local community,” we’re not talking about chasing some nostalgic Little House fantasy. We’re talking about survival, stewardship, and mental health.

We’re talking about what our grandmothers had: women at the table snapping beans together, trading stories, quietly clocking who needed help — and then showing up with that help without making you beg for it.

We lost that. And it’s costing us.

But we can rebuild it, one pot of soup and one phone call at a time.

Until next time: keep growing.

BLOG ARTICLE VERSION (POLISHED)

How Do You Build Community as a Modern Homesteader (Especially If You’re Isolated, New in Town, or Burned Out on the Internet)?

You know what almost nobody prepared homesteaders for? Loneliness.

We’ve all heard the romantic version of the story: “We moved out of the city, found our dream property, started raising animals, and everything just felt right.”

Here’s the part that usually comes after that sentence, but quietly:

“…and then I realized I didn’t actually know anyone.”

Let’s say this out loud: growing food is easier than growing roots. Fencing pasture is easier than finding a friend you can call when your kid rolls his ankle. Most people do not move to their dream land with a built-in safety net. They arrive with a list of projects and a hope that the rest will somehow fall into place.

Then real life hits.

Why This Problem Exploded After 2020
The current wave of homesteaders was forged in a very specific moment in history. During COVID, people saw systems fail. Store shelves went empty. Rules got weird. Some kids were struggling in school. Some parents felt like, “We cannot keep living like this.”

So they started looking for another way.

But lockdown meant those people weren’t meeting each other in person. They were meeting online.

That was a lifeline at the time. People found their “tribe” on Instagram, Telegram, YouTube, and in niche Facebook groups. You didn’t have to live in the same zip code to feel seen. You might have lost connection with relatives or old friends, but somewhere out there on the internet, there was someone saying, “No, you’re not crazy for wanting to raise your own food.”

Then came the move.

People left cities. They bought property. They started homeschooling or pulled back from the public-school routine. They started keeping chickens, canning broth, bartering eggs, storing feed, going to livestock auctions. They did the thing they said they would do.

And then they looked up and realized:
“I left my entire support system behind… and I haven’t built the new one yet.”

That’s where a lot of homesteaders are right now.

You don’t actually want to live online anymore. You don’t want the only person who understands you to be 1,200 miles away in a group chat. You want a real person in your actual town who can sit at your kitchen table and say, “I’ll watch the kids for an hour, go take a shower.”

That need is not silly. That need is human.

Rural Isolation Is Not Just “Being Lonely”
Isolation in rural areas is not just “I wish I had someone to have coffee with.”

The reality is darker, and we need to be honest about it.

In rural America, suicide rates climb faster than in metro areas. Farmers, ranchers, and ag workers experience suicide at multiple times the rate of the general population. The reasons are layered:

• Financial stress and volatility
• Physical exhaustion
• The “I have to handle this myself” mindset
• Lack of access to mental health care
• Cultural pressure to look strong instead of admit fear or burnout
• Sheer isolation

So when we talk about building local community, we are not just talking about social fun. We’re talking about mental health, resilience, and survival.

That’s especially true for:

• New moms in postpartum who are physically isolated.
• Dads who feel pressure to “provide or die.”
• Homeschool parents who don’t get any breaks.
• People who moved far from extended family and suddenly realize there is no backup plan.

If you are at a point where you feel panicked, ashamed, buried, or hopeless, please don’t just “tough it out.” Ask for help. Ask your church community. Ask your fire department. Ask the VFW. Ask someone local you halfway trust. If you genuinely don’t know where to start, reach out and someone can help you find resources close to you.

Reaching out is not weakness. Reaching out is what every good rural community used to be built on.

What Real Community Can Look Like
Let me tell you a story.

When we moved to the community where we are now, we didn’t know how fast we’d need people. We moved for family health reasons. I had a complicated pregnancy. I ended up in the hospital, three hours from home, while our other kids tried to keep the farm running during early COVID shutdowns.

That could have gone badly.

Instead, this community showed up.

People we barely knew organized a meal train and made sure our kids had a hot dinner every night. Local moms checked in, called me with updates, made sure everyone was okay. Our freezers were filled with casseroles. Folks made sure we had fuel and basics. Border-area families literally coordinated around each other to keep our house running while we were gone.

That said one thing to us, loud and clear: “You’re home now. You’re ours.”

That is what people are craving.

Not a fandom. Not a following. Not 200k views. A town.

Why It’s Hard to Build That (And Why You Still Need To)
Here’s why a lot of homesteaders haven’t built in-person community yet, even though they want it:

• You’re homeschooling and not doing drop-offs or sports yet.
• You’re working the land sunup to sundown.
• You’re exhausted.
• You live 30–40 miles from town so nobody “just swings by.”
• You’re shy.
• You assume you’re intruding.
• You’ve been burned before.

All of those are valid. Truly.

But here’s the equation: without community you burn out, and when you burn out, the homestead you moved here to build will not survive the winter.

So yes, you’re busy. Yes, you’re tired. Yes, it feels awkward. Do it anyway.

Community is not “extra.” It’s infrastructure.

Seven Practical Ways to Start Building Real-World Community
This is the part where a lot of people say, “Okay but HOW? How do I literally meet someone?”

Here’s how.

1. Go to church.
   Even if you haven’t gone in a long time. Even if you’re still sorting out what you believe. You don’t have to “sign up” to walk through the door. Churches are one of the last places in America where you can show up with children on a Sunday and be welcomed without paying anything.

Why it matters:

• Built-in rhythm (weekly contact).
• Multi-generational support.
• Someone will learn your name.
• People will notice if you’re missing.

If a traditional church isn’t a fit for you, look for the closest analog in your area: grange halls, community halls, preparedness groups, VFW, American Legion, ladies’ Bible study, men’s breakfast, volunteer fire department auxiliary, etc. You’re looking for consistent, recurring face-to-face gathering.

1. Put your kids in something local.
   If you homeschool, you are not automatically cut off from activities:

• 4-H
• Trail Life / American Heritage Girls
• Homeschool co-ops
• Church youth groups
• County extension classes
• In many states, homeschoolers are still eligible for school sports

Here’s the secret: the “something” isn’t just for your kids. It’s so you can stand next to other parents and quietly say, “We’re new here, where do you all get hay?” That one conversation can change your entire year.

1. Barter.
   Bartering is relationship glue in rural areas. Put a sign at the end of your driveway: “Eggs for sale.” Post in a local barter or farm swap group. Offer extra apples in exchange for a hand with fencing. Walk up to the guy at the feed store bulletin board and ask if he still has that hay.

When two people trade, they’re both admitting “I need something and I trust you.” That’s the start.

1. Talk to vendors at the farmers market.
   Farmers market vendors are low-key community hubs. Ask them questions. Ask if they sell in bulk. Ask if they know anyone who can process meat chickens. Ask if they know anyone who does tractor work. Most of them do.

You are not bothering them. You are doing exactly what markets are for.

1. Use the hall.
   If your area has a community hall, grange, or fire hall: use it.

You can organize:

• A seasonal rummage sale
• A once-a-month community potluck
• A “bring ingredients and we’ll all batch-make freezer meals” day
• A seed swap before planting season
• A canning day in August/September
• A simple “families with kids under 10 meet here Fridays at 1pm” play block

Most people are waiting for someone to say, “Want to do this?” You can be the someone.

1. Invite someone over with a purpose.
   It feels huge to invite a new family over for “dinner.” That’s a lot of pressure.

It feels way less huge to say:
“Hey, I’m pressure canning broth on Saturday. Want to come help, learn, and take some jars home? Bring your kids, mine will be here anyway.”

That is a yes for a lot of people, especially other women. You’re offering:

• learning,
• fellowship,
• childcare relief,
• and food security.

That is a gift.

1. Schedule social time like it’s part of school (because it is).
   If you homeschool, build “community day” into your week. Literally put it in your planner.

Friday is not for math.
Friday is for:

• park meetups,
• hiking with other families,
• service (helping someone stack firewood),
• potluck lunch,
• going to town together.

That is not skipping school. That IS school. Your kids will learn more from watching you build a functioning mutual-aid network than they will from one more worksheet on Thursday.

The Part You Don’t Want to Hear (But Need To)
You might have to be the one who goes first.

You might have to be the person who says, “Hi, I’m new, and I’m looking for connection.” You might have to be the one to knock on a door, or put the flyer up at the grange, or text the other mom and say, “I know we only met once, but do you want to come over Wednesday and can pears with me?”

That doesn’t mean you’re needy.
That means you’re brave.

We romanticize old-fashioned community — women snapping beans together on a porch, men helping each other get firewood in, kids running as a pack — but we forget something important:

Those people scheduled it.

They didn’t just “happen” to show up at each other’s houses at the perfect moment. They checked on each other. They asked. They offered. They traded. They sat. They stayed.

We can do that again. We just have to be willing to act like neighbors… before we “feel” like neighbors.

In Other Words
You’re not wrong for wanting real people in your real life.

You’re not behind because you haven’t found them yet.

You’re allowed to be new here and say so.

And if one door closes — if one group is not your people, if one mom is not a match, if one attempt is awkward — that’s not your sign to quit. That’s your sign to try the next door.

Keep going. Keep asking. Keep showing up.

Keep growing.