Fringe Benefits
This afternoon I met a woman at the pool who leads Tesla's class at church. She's the kind of person I'd like to know better. But it's hard. She was there with her two girls and a handful of nieces, cousins and grandparents, so there was little time to chat.
I watched them as Tesla and I swam our little duets together, and later, on our way home, I began to feel sad again. Sometimes I feel as if Randy and Tesla and I are stranded on a lonely island in a sea of people who are too busy and too connected to reach out to us. And I've tried, I've really tried to stretch my hand towards them.
Then I came home and found this at Lisa's blog. Amazing. Wish I could go. I like my house--for once I'm not living in a mold factory--and the neighbor reminds me of my childhood, but I'm feeling so very lost in this suburban, self-restrained, self-reliant world. Who is our community? Just we three. What are we living for? To get to the next day, the next month, the next year--past the next illness when we might have a bit more 'freedom'?
Frankly, my writing is the only spot where I stretch beyond the boundaries of my limited world. I'd say that it's an act of faith to hope that someday I'd be published, but it's not a life or death kind of faith. It won't push me outside the scope of acceptable, comfortable middle-class American Christianity. So it's not much of a stretch, barely worth noting, honestly.
I look at people whose lifestyles are on the fringe of my faith--the freaks, the missionals, the monastics, the nomads--and know that though their lives are challenging, the benefits are many--a life requiring daily faith, and the acknowledgement that cooperative community is a neccessary (NOT optional) ingredient of a healthy worship.
American middle-class churches could learn much from our neo-hippie pals, but are they? Maybe we could take a lesson from the fashion world, and realise that the seemingly outrageous 'clothing' that designers trot out each season, like the 'radical' stance of the Emergent Movement, is meant as inspiration, not prescription. Like couture, ideas get trimmed down, the expensive bits removed, and shape is simplified; what seemed so radical last fall is simply this year's wardrobe basic from Penny's.
Personally, I'd like a little Fringe on my frock. That's just my style.
posted by shanna at 12:25 PM
3 Comments:
beautifully written, and very very true. community is becoming a lost art in our modern world... we're becoming more separated, more individualized... more inward thinking instead of outward thinking. And its an isolating feeling... especially when you (and/or your family) dont fit the comfortable mold that other people are willing to exert a little energy to be a part of. *hugs* - hang in there.... you're not alone.
For the first time, we are living in small-town America and really do have a bigger sense of community, but nothing like the 12 marks of new monasticism (that I just read for the first time yesterday and feel like I need a dictionary to understand some of it). We live in a very churched but not necessarily Jesus oriented environment.
I have a group of ladies who do an amazing job of reaching out to each other, but sometimes it feels like we are just singing to the choir. Of course we have needs and we try to be there for each other, but we really aren't adding to the kingdom. (Or are we? Does serving each other count or do we need to do a better job or searching out unchurched, unsaved and needy people?) This whole topic is one I am very interested in learning more about.
It's true that I get wrapped up in getting my kids to where they need to go, that I don't see someone who may need an encouraging word from me. There is so much self in me, too, that I don't want people to think I'm weird if I ask a virtual stranger to have coffee.
So, anyway, you have given me a lot to think about today.
I've been thinking about a variation of that for the past few days. About lonliness and connection. I've recently moved AWAY from a neighborhood where all the houses were near the street and the neighbors were friendly, interested people. Now I come home to a street where the houses are sheltered from one another and I rarely see my neighbors. I am so sad to have lost the little community I had in Eastport, but more sad because I didn't realize that I was losing something of value.
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