Out of sorts is probably the best way to describe the state of discontent, uneasiness, and unsettledness in which I currently reside.
Community is a valuable word to me. By nature an introvert, I prefer a smaller, close circle of friends with whom I can enter into meaningful relationships . The stability of those friendships grounds me because one can handle the erratic nature of the day-to-day knowing the constancy and dependability of community is there to walk with you. I have several communities dear to me – childhood and college friends, work colleagues from the DC days, this blog (can you believe it will be five years old this fall?) – but many who fall in these groups are scattered. They live all across the country, even the world, and for that reason, my local church community figures as one of the most important to me in terms of daily life.
I’ve attended my church for over 10 years and have been fortunate for the last four to be a part of a wonderful Sunday School class that has been instrumental in helping me put one foot in front of the other, week after week after week. We’ve laughed, mourned, served, celebrated, prayed, played, and lived life together. New baby? Take a meal. Moving? I’ll bring the truck. Kid failing in school? We’re going to pray him to the next grade and support you while you help him. It’s with this group that I could be honest, flip, glib, and serious.
These are my people.
But this past week, because of a need to make room at our later worship service, class assignments for the kids changed and Craig and I have been forced to attend a different hour in order to accommodate the kids’ new schedule.
I’ve lost my people.
And I am bereft.
Maybe a little over the top but I love the word.
For someone who values flexibility and spontaneity, I have not taken to this change well. Sunday mornings were the highlight of my week; gabbing on the back row with the fellow rabble-rousers, catching up with the other moms I couldn’t see during the week, looking forward to the lesson (seriously!), and recharging my batteries for the week ahead with a group of people who knew how to support and encourage each other. It was my community, my haven, people I’d walked with for years, my very happy, loud, noisy, joyful place. And now it’s gone.
We walked into the new class this week. Yes, there were familiar faces but it was different. It was quiet, smaller, sad. We’re all mourning and I’m feeling unmoored in a place that has always been my anchor. I’m fighting resentment, trying to be an adult about the reality of the situation but it’s hard. Loyalty, stability, friendship – these aren’t abstract concepts – these are core values for me and they’ve been upended. My community is leveled and without sounding too melodramatic
BECAUSE WE KNOW THAT NEVER HAPPENS AROUND HERE I feel like all I have left is splinters with which to rebuild.
Craig says I’ll find my footing in the new place. Maybe by gathering the splinters together, adding some new attitude, and mixing it all with a little time, I can make a stepping stone towards a new home.
I really liked my old one, though.
Have a nice day.