Beauty on the Backroads

Stories of grace for life's unexpected turns

belonging

Why I need to belong

One of my favorite TV shows returned last week, and though I was a little disappointed by the episode (sorry, I’m not familiar with The Hunger Games, so maybe it’s my fault), I’m glad it’s back. And a couple of nights ago, I dreamt about the cast from another of my favorite shows.

Either I’m watching too much TV (true) or I’m sorely lacking in friends (also true).

Now, before you throw me a pity party or get mad (Hey! What about me? I’m your friend.), let me clarify.

Recently, I identified a need, one that hasn’t been filled in a while. (Even saying that sounds selfish, but everyone has needs and filling those needs makes us more complete as people.)

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Photo by Stephanie Hofschlaeger/SXC.HU

I need community. A place to belong.

Having transplanted from Illinois to PA Dutch (German) country, belonging might be wishful thinking. It’s not that people here aren’t nice or friendly; it’s just that most of them have lived here a long time and have family nearby.

And life is busy. I get that. Most of the time I forget the hole created in my life because I don’t have community.

But then we’ll stop at our friends’ house in western Pennsylvania and we’ll share Chinese food while our kids run off together to play and sleep in each other’s rooms. We’ll watch The Golden Globes and make fun of celebrities. And in the morning, over coffee and donuts, we’ll find it hard to pull ourselves away.

“Can’t you just stay?” our hosts always ask us.

And my heart screams “Yes!” every time.

One of my deep longings is to be surrounded by people doing this life journey together. I want to share meals. And childcare. And burdens over cups of coffee. I want to meet regularly with a group of people–women, especially–who don’t have it all figured out and just need space to vent and cry. I want to pray together. Laugh together. Cry together.

To me, this is a picture of how the church is supposed to function. Every day, not just on Sundays.

I have found community online with like-minded readers and creators, but it’s not the same as having flesh-and-blood people in your life. (I have those. And I love every one of them, but even 30 minutes or an hour seems too far away sometimes.)

In my frustration and sadness at not having community, I’ve closed my own doors. I’ve self-focused on our home. Our kids. Our crazy life. Frankly, I’m often embarrassed by the mess that is our house, the little that we have to share (which is still a lot by comparison), the uncertainty that is our life.

But this week I realized that I can’t wait for community to find me. I can’t sit around waiting for people to knock on my door and ask to journey with me through life. (About the only people knocking on our door these days are Jehovah’s Witnesses. They come to speak with my husband. In his absence, I fear they’re going to start in on me.)

No. Community starts with me.

With an invitation to share a meal.

Or a commitment to pray for a situation as it’s presented.

Or a Valentine treat for a neighbor.

Or a question about how someone else is doing with this whole life thing.

For community to happen, I have to lose interest in myself and my problems (at least for a few minutes) and seek out others.

This show that I love that returned this week, it’s called Community. It takes place at a community college and revolves around a study group that first got together for mostly selfish reasons. A shared class brought them together regularly, whatever the motivation. And over time, these regular meetings morphed into friendship. Yeah, they’ve had ups and downs. But they’ve stuck together. And, as one of the characters pointed out this week, they’re going to change and face changes together but they’re still going to be friends.

I believe community is a God-given longing. Jesus could have walked the earth by Himself, healing people and doing miracles, but He picked a core group of people to walk with Him. Probably more for their sake than for His, but then again, Jesus knew community from the time time began. God, Jesus and the Holy Spirit are three-in-one, a holy community.

I don’t know what community is going to look like for me or my family. I just know that I have to be the one to open the door and invite others in.

And it won’t be perfect.

It might even be messy.

But I’m okay with that.

A week’s worth of thoughts

I’ve had a lot running through my mind this week and little time to write out my thoughts. So, lucky you, if you’re reading this, you get to take a peek at a week in the life of my brain. Try not to be afraid.

— I haven’t had as much sleep this week as I would like. Early in the week, Isabelle decided to assert her 2-year-old independence and boldly declare, “No, I not go to sleep” at bed time. This, followed by an hour or more of screaming, “I want my mommy” and throwing herself around her room, passing out in various areas of her room. One night, she fell asleep in the middle of the floor. Tonight confirmed one of my fears about this … she passed out in front of the door to her room, so I woke her up (by nudging the door into her head) when I went in to put Corban to sleep. The experts, doctors, I guess, say one reason for this sort of behavior is because they don’t want to miss out on what’s going on. Isabelle played that card tonight, conning me into letting her take a book and a Bible to bed with her, then desperately asking for anything she could think of to delay bedtime. As her mother, I disapprove of her antics, knowing that sleep is what’s best for her. But if I’m honest with myself, I’m guilty of the same. God repeatedly tells me to rest, and I repeatedly tell him, “But, the dishes aren’t done.” Or, “I need this time on Facebook to relax after a long day.” Or, “I deserve to stay up late and have ‘me’ time after being with the kids all day.” Rest, He says. And I know He knows what is best.

— Isabelle broke a glass in the kitchen this week. She didn’t do it on purpose. I think she was reaching for a dirty dish that she wanted to wash when it crashed to the floor. I rushed her out of the room while I picked up and swept the pieces I could see. I knew I needed to do a better job than that, but I just didn’t feel like it then. I was alone in the house with the kids and I didn’t want to have to play keep away from the kitchen with Isabelle while I tried to sweep and mop the whole floor. I paid for that decision all week. Four times, I stepped on a small piece of glass and had to dig it out with tweezers, wash the wound and affix a band-aid to the bottom of my foot. A few extra minutes when the breakage occurred could have saved me later, as could have a decision to wear shoes in the kitchen until I did. Reminds me of two things: that every decision has a consequence, good or bad and small wounds can cause big hurt.

— I’m having an increasing desire to “do life together” with people, and I’m not confident of being able to fulfill that desire where we’re at. Or maybe I just need to take more initiative. I said earlier this week that I was missing a sense of belonging. I know as a Christian I don’t belong here on earth, but I have to live here till I’m called home, and while I’m here, I want to know I’m part of something. I feel that on Sundays, most of the time. But the rest of the week, not so much. I’m not sure what the answer is, but I was grateful today to be able to hang out with a friend and her daughters. It was unplanned and unscheduled, but it was fun to connect, even though we were just “being.”

— My husband and I accepted a challenge this week, thanks to One Extraordinary Marriage, http://www.oneextraordinarymarriage.com. It’s totally out of my comfort zone, but I’m learning that I’ll do anything to strengthen my marriage. We’ve only been married three years, and while I know there is a cord holding us together (Ecclesiastes 4:12), sometimes that cord feels more like a kite string than a rope. I’m excited to see what’s changed after a week.

— I’ve been struggling with disappointment over things I thought should have happened but haven’t. I believe that God is in control and will not fail us, but acting on that belief isn’t always easy. I need to tear up my agenda for our lives and submit to His leading. Ugh. I can hardly even type that without throwing an internal tantrum.

I could probably go on, but my Swiss cheese mommy brain needs a break and can only think, “Oh, the laundry’s done,” and “It’s time for a snack!” And maybe I’ll listen to my Father for once and turn in early for some much-needed rest.