I’m typing from my home today, but when you read this I will actually be at my parent’s home in Texas. My other home.
Question: When does your home stop being your home?
In the last year I’ve changed my name and my welcome mat. I proudly display my initialed stationary, coasters, and towels. None of these changes have been involuntary. I registered for everything with the letter C on it as my husband chuckled and rolled his eyes.
Question: When do you stop feeling like you are moving all the time?
I’ve moved 15 times since 2000. Most of those were moves within the same city or area code, but all the same: that’s a lot of transition.
I’ve been trying to dig roots here, honestly. I’ve been living in my new city for almost six months now and I feel like I should have a really settled feeling… but I don’t. I am so happy to be D’s wife. I am excited for my business and dreaming endeavors, and I am so pleased to live in our home. We have a lovely church, diverse and wonderful neighbors, and family within 45 minutes of driving.
So what gives?
I think I knew the answer even before it came, but all the same I still had to be smacked across the face with a frying pan this week.
My friendships are changing again. Those that I depended upon for years are now moving steadily forward in their own communities and families. I feel like all I can do is watch from the side and call out as they lap me one more time. None of this is bad or even sad… it’s just part of change.
I’ve been attending three different groups this year. I signed up for Bible study, small group fellowship, and Bunco fun. I just realized that out of the forty others represented in those groups, I have FOUR of those phone numbers in my contact list. Granted, I don’t need all the numbers from my co-ed small group, but the statistics are still surprising as I sit here adding.
The numbers are evidence of my frying pan moment. I am not letting anyone IN. I attend, I cook food, I share my prayer requests, and then I rush out the door. I have yet to really share me.
Here’s what I read on Tuesday sitting on a bench outside the Library.
The discipline of community makes us persons; that is, people who are sounding through to each other a truth, a beauty, and a love which is greater, fuller, and richer than we ourselves can grasp. In true community we are windows constantly offering each other new views on the mystery of God’s presence in our lives. Thus the discipline of community is a true discipline of prayer. It makes us alert to the presence of the Spirit who cries out “Abba,” Father, among us and thus prays from the center of our common life. Community thus is obedience practiced together. – Henri Nouwen, Making All Things New
You know what I wanted? I wanted to be able to blame this on cliques or inside jokes or even being the new person. But I can’t. This is my doing. This is my stubbornness, disobedience, and judgement. I have kept the shades drawn and kept community out, and for that I feel deep regret. I am saddened and sorry.
But it’s time to move on. I am done with passive community. I am ready for this community to become my home… away from my Heavenly Home.
“So let’s do it—full of belief, confident that we’re presentable inside and out. Let’s keep a firm grip on the promises that keep us going. He always keeps his word. Let’s see how inventive we can be in encouraging love and helping out, not avoiding worshiping together as some do but spurring each other on, especially as we see the big Day approaching.” Hebrews 10:22-25, The Message
“But our citizenship is in heaven. And we eagerly await a Savior from there, the Lord Jesus Christ…” Philippians 3:20, NIV
Following and learning,
***This post was written in April of this year for another blog. This new home is home and my roots are deepening every day. God is good!