Community

Today, the rain has gone, the wind has ceased to blow, and it is very, very hot, inside and out.

I sit in a quiet house, on a quiet farm, in the peaceful, quiet little village town of Drumblade. There are few things to disturb the perfect silence out here. Occasionally, the dogs will bark, mostly at each other as there are no unfamiliar passer-bys to keep them entertained or excited.

We woke this morning to get out and enjoy some fresh air before the heat became too much. Our usual walk to the end of the road and back was almost eventful this morning, as we saw people out and about for reasons other than heading to or from a long, labor-filled work day. We greeted our unfamiliar neighbors as they were out on morning walks and tried our best to stay out of the pathway of other neighbors hurriedly driving past, impatient with walkers in road as they made their way to destinations that remain unknown to us.  As we walk, we wonder aloud: what do people here do? Where are they off to in such a hurry at 9am on a Saturday? We know this village has a lifetime of stories to tell; we are slowly becoming a part of these stories and look forward to hearing of the stories past.

As we approach the Tuck shop, we realize the distant person opening the shop has recognized us: it is Cindy, who we hoped would soon join us on these daily walks through town. We greet her, pleased to have any ‘familiar’ face to greet us along our way. We learn this is her shop as she tells us about her busy week and as she apologizes that time got away from her this week but she still hopes to join us next week. Perhaps her husband can go on bike rides when we walk each day, as a means to keep him accountable to exercise also. As she tells us this, a small group of cyclists passes us, and I am reminded of how much I miss having a bike and people to ride with; the thick, unforgiving heat of the morning reminds me of many days on tour last summer.

Cindy quickly starts writing notes, and we soon realize she is active on committees throughout the neighborhood. She is enthusiastic about putting out a notice that I’m looking for a bike to borrow for the year I am here; she insists there is no reason to buy one for such a short period of time. I drift in and out of the conversation, dwelling on information she offers, invitations she offers, the relationships she is looking forward to developing during our stay here.

Finally, today, it is beginning to feel like there is life in this small town, and this brings me hope. I am hopeful as the mysterious going-ons of the community are at hand as we are promised a radio by the end of the week, whereby we will have access to the community broadcast system. We will be in the know of community gatherings, volunteer opportunities, or needs/wants as they have their own form of “Craig’s List” that is broadcast each morning between 9 and 10 each morning. They even have a ride-share program the radio is used for so that people like us - people without transport to town - can potentially pick up rides with others heading that way near the same time. It is encouraging today to be reminded of the shared life and fellowship and networks of a small town, and I imagine that this small town is, in many ways, not so different from the small town I come from in South Dakota, a small town called McCook Lake that I will always call “home.”

Our Broken, Hurting World

Tragedy after tragedy after tragedy. That is all I hear on the news.

What is going on? Watching the news this evening, they moved from one thing to another, as if it were no big deal. No progress on the shooter at a Lane Bryant store, where five people were killed "execution style" and the shooter is still unidentified. Then to the shooting at a city council meeting in Kirkwood, Missouri in which five people were killed before the shooter was gunned down (and killed) by police. Then to Louisiana, where it again wasn't even the headline that someone shot and killed two people before killing themself at a Technical college in Louisiana. Then to Georgia, where there was an explosion that killed 4 people, with 4 others still missing.

Is it always like this? Is this what our world- the very communities we live in- have become? Maybe it is. But does it have to be? What can we be doing- what have we been doing- that has made it become this way, most people don't even bat an eye. There was a shooting at a college today!!!! and no one even noticed or flinched!!! I can't even find the story on some of the main news websites! (It was here on CNN... but should I have to LOOK for such stories?!?)

Perhaps I am feeling a bit over-emotional about such things in light of more tragedies striking at home. There was ANOTHER fatal car accident. That's so many in the past 6 months I've seriously lost track! I still think about JJ and the Nelson family almost daily, knowing (via FB status updates and lots of pictures) that JJ is struggling so much with Alex's death. :(. That one hit close to home... this time, I don't think I know the boys involved, but there were three, all pronounced "dead on arrival." 18, 19, 20 years old. It was late, only the driver was wearing a seatbelt... of course everyone's first question is "were they drinking?" but no one knows yet... they went of the road and hit a tree, but the roads were icy so it is quite possible they (or at least the driver) were not. Regardless, 3 more lives were tragically lost early this morning, and again my very small town is mourning the lost lives of young people who still had so much to offer. Even from afar, even not knowing the boys, its hard. Its hard because in the days to come, I know I will feel I "need" to be home, to support those in the community I do love. Because even if I wasn't close to the boys, I know people I am close to and love were. As I wrote before in my post "Life and Death in a Small Town", thats whats great- and terrible- about living in a small town.

I'm thinking and praying and seeking a deeper kind of rest on this cold winter evening. May everyone be safe and warm and find time to be thankful for the blessed lives we lead, and for the blessing of the lives who share our lives with us.

The Journey of Life

A friend challenged me today to think about what kind of person I am in terms of settling, and what that may look like/mean for my life. Specifically, the questions she posed (perhaps about herself, but asking us to consider and journey with her) were specific...and after sharing thoughts on what journeys have been, it came down to these questions, which she posed to us in her own blog:

Do I want to be the 100 mile type who is going to chose a community and settle in? Do I wish to invest in building a community over 40 or 50 years?
Or Do I wish to continue my vocational wanderings, offering to the local communities powerful and intense gifts, but spreading seeds rather than tending the soil over a countless cycle of seasons? Do I wish to continue sharing the beauty of something people had not previously imagined before I came into their limited perspectives?
...
Are you a 100 mile type? or a Nomad? How do you reconcile any tension you feel about your decision? How do you feel about your friends who are the other-type (than you are)? Is there a third way of being which I have not considered?

Great questions to ask, and many good solutions to give. I know the pain and struggles that come with moving in and out of communities. The community I work in now at Holy Covenant knows the pain of nomads all too well also, as we wished well 2 persons even today as they moved on to new communities. A lot of people would call it a generational gap, but many of my colleagues would disagree; I know many who may have moved away for school for now, but would think of nothing but moving back "home" when it is all done. It seems thats how most of my small town I grew up in is. That's how my family is- and that's part of why they don't understand why I had to "just go."

Just as I have shared her questions and ask you to think of where your life has led you and how/why you are journeying on the path you are, I also want to share my response. The words and reasons I would choose to describe why I am a nomad would perhaps change from season to season, but regardless of words I use, one truth remains:

I am definitely a Nomad. Sure, as a nomad I also do my best to live into the "third way" of making community and living fully into the community in which I currently reside. But even as I do so here, I know Chicago is not home. Sure, its the place I currently live and the place I call "home" at the end of long days/journeys, but I'm not in this for the long haul. But that doesn't mean I am not doing my best to fully live into the community at hand, to make it "homey" for the time being.

As a nomad, its both freeing and difficult to know that I don't have a place I can call home in the sense others talk about it. My family - my "home" where I grew up - would always welcome me back, and I will always make it to visit, but as many know from tales of my visits there, this place is not now (nor do I ever see it being in the future) a place I could call "home."

I'm at peace being a nomad. I'm okay with being a part of communities for limited times, whether it be months or even years at a time. Its refreshing, insightful, and hopeful. Every new place, culture, community I encounter or become a part of teaches me something and plays a role in shaping me to become a better person for tomorrow.

Perhaps being a nomad for me is about knowing that in all I've done and all that I've seen and in all of the people I've met, one thing is continually reinforced: no one ever has- or perhaps ever will- truly know me. [Part of this relates to my blog yesterday about being a traveler and having different parts of me scattered throughout the world.] I am yet to know a person who will not let me down from time to time. No one, that is, except God. God who is constant, loving, and empowering no matter where I am or what the situation. It is upon that refreshing realization in each new community that I realize the one person I look up to most- Jesus- was also a nomad. No really ever knew him well either. And that's okay.

In these realizations, I am comforted that while it would be nice to have a "home" to go to, it is okay that I don't.

John Wesley said "the world is my parish" - and I truly believe that some people are called to be nomads and minister to the world in such ways. He was. I believe I am. I am thankful there are different types of people called to different places, and I am thankful that one thing I don't have to worry about in ministry is fear of the itinerant system, for I would have it be no other way.

Life and Death in a Small Town

Tragedy has struck at home, and 20-year-old Alex Nelson has passed away in a car accident while his two friends who were with him walked away. Everyone is really shaken up, and I think my sister Alicia stated well why this is so hard on all of us, no matter how close we were or weren't to him:

"The worst thing about a small town is that everyone knows everything about everyone. What happens when someone you know everything about, dies? It doesn't matter how close you were to them. It matters that you shared a place that was dear to you. You play in the same playground. You tell the same stories of the lame town you grew up in and call home. You shared moments with the person's mother. You graduated with the persons brother. Your families go to the same church. Just the same, you know everything about him, he probably also knew everything about you. When he dies, a part of you also dies. We will all mourn together. This is what it means to be in a small town."

So true. and so sad. Yet at the same time, we have to ask: is that a negative thing to know everyone, to have those kinds of relationships? Maybe that's one of the gifts of the small town... that when something happens, you have a network of support, because it has affected everyone on some level and it isn't just "your problem." Better yet, you don't have to make those "dreaded phone calls" or explain yourself...because everyone already knows. My small town has made me who I am (for better or worse). They have supported me, encouraged me, battled with and challenged me... I am grateful for all that my small town that will always be home has offered me.

I didn't know Alex that well, yet I did at the same time. I know his brother, who I graduated with. We have countless mutual friends, including my little sister who also graduated with him.

May Alex RIP as we keep his family, friends, and our community in our thoughts and prayers.