A SANCTUARY IN GOODMAN: THE MAGIC OF THE PUBLIC LIBRARY
PROTECTED CONTENT
If you’re a current subscriber, log in below. If you would like to subscribe, please click the subscribe tab above.
Username and Password Help
Please enter your email and we will send you a password reset link.
By Chelsey George
For nearly a year, I lived in Goodman Mississippi without ever stepping foot inside the little brick building on Main Street. I’d drive past it, see the sign out front with some message about story time or a craft night, and think nothing of it. Downtown Goodman isn’t flashy. There’s a post office, one restaurant, town hall, and that library tucked into what used to be a Presbyterian church. Nothing about it seemed urgent enough to stop for.
Then one day, I finally brought my kids inside. From the moment we pushed open the front doors, it was like stepping into another world. The very first thing that caught my eye was the spiral staircase — a little winding stairway that carried the children up to their own area. For my kids, it was nothing short of magical. The library felt alive: bulletin boards always changing with games or activities, displays of art from local kids, and every little piece that children gave to Rachel Floyd sitting proudly on her desk. When they come back, they see that their work is valued, preserved, and celebrated.
Rachel herself is the heartbeat of the library. She’s been a beacon in a community where opportunity is scarce. Holmes County is one of the poorest in the nation, and Goodman’s poverty rate hovers around 50%. Schools struggle, crime is high, and families are often stretched thin. Yet inside these walls, laughter, curiosity, and discovery take center stage. Rachel’s presence turns a simple library into a sanctuary — a safe, welcoming space where children can just be children.
Since Rachel was hired in December 2021, the library has grown in ways that numbers can only begin to capture. Checkouts that month totaled 83. By December 2022, that number had risen to 310; December 2023 brought 471; and by December 2024, 823 books were checked out. Growth like this comes not just from a love of reading, but from Rachel’s dedication to programming — an average of 10 programs each month for all ages: family bingo, adult crafts, preschool story times, kids’ STEAM teams, and teen Lego club.
The library itself tells a story of transformation. Converted from a Presbyterian church in December 2002, it retains echoes of its past: tall windows letting in the Mississippi sun, the creak of wooden floors beneath your feet. But now, it hums with energy instead of hymns. Rachel has made it a place where the rules of traditional libraries don’t apply. Kids don’t have to whisper or tiptoe. They can laugh loud, play loud, explore loud — because this library was built for them. It’s a space that celebrates noise, curiosity, and imagination.
And it’s not just books. Local art brings the library alive, connecting the children to their own community in a visible, tangible way. Every painting, every craft, every small creation tells a story, and Rachel makes sure those stories are seen and remembered.
Walking out of the library after our first visit, I realized that this little brick building on Main Street is far more than a library. It’s a sanctuary, a playground, a gallery, a place of learning and laughter. And at its center is Rachel, quietly and steadfastly showing the children of Goodman that they are seen, valued, and capable of anything. In her hands, a library is no longer just a place for books — it’s a place for life.
