Year-end Reflections
Well, May has once again come upon us here at Iredell House, and most of us are dispersed or dispersing to the four winds. Divinity students are off to their field education placements. Liz, our public policy guru, is off to spend a bit of time with family and friends before her summer internship starts, and Jana is in the final flurry of preparations for her wedding (May 21). Barry and Joey left Wednesday. Clifton and Kent left Saturday. The comings and goings here are part of life, but they don't get any easier. The questions of how to be in relationship change and shift as the geography changes. What it means when we share the space is one thing; what it means when we don't is another.
So, what does it mean to be in relationship with one another as these things shift and change? I've been thinking a lot lately about relationships in general and how they ebb and flow over time, how things which seem like mountains at one point later turn out to be molehills, and vice versa, of course. For some reason, I've lately been thinking about two things in particular, and they're last year things, but I think relevant to us as well.
First, I recall that about this time last year, I sat down with a friend of mine and gave -- for the first time -- a sort of blow-by-blow account of life in Iredell last year. I described some of our bad beginnings and proceeded to say, "And I think that's the point at which being a real Christian community became impossible for us." He called me out on thinking that way, because, of course, change, repentance, forgiveness -- it's all always possible, especially with God's grace.
Second, I think about what for me is one of the most powerful instances of that: my relationship with Jana. Like so many of the relationships in the community last year, ours was strained and marked by a lot of distance and silence. And then one day, for no real immediately apparent reason except the sense that the community was falling apart (maybe she can remind me of something), and clearly with the help of God's grace, we closed the gap. It was amazing. And it happened as we were sitting around the kitchen table.
I guess I'm thinking all this because I'm feeling the distance. Some of it is as simple as geography, and as missing out on good-byes to Liz and Joey before they left. Some of it is the distance we've talked about from this spring, the ways in which so many of us were pulled in different directions. Much of it is me, my own distractions and choices, diving into other relationships, sometimes at the expense of those in the house, though for the most part not consciously so. I'm not saying that our distance is the distance of last year; nothing about it seems so oppressive or silent. And distance and silence aren't bad things, always. Sometimes they give you a certain sort of "breathing room," time to reassess, readjust, re-commit if need be.
I wonder what, for each of us, the space and changes of the summer will bring. How will we use this time to grow, both personally and collectively? And I wonder, in these liminal times, what new hopes and dreams for our community will spring up, what new needs we might see, or what old ones we might find the courage to name. More the questions I'm sitting with, so far, than any real answers. Any thoughts?
So, what does it mean to be in relationship with one another as these things shift and change? I've been thinking a lot lately about relationships in general and how they ebb and flow over time, how things which seem like mountains at one point later turn out to be molehills, and vice versa, of course. For some reason, I've lately been thinking about two things in particular, and they're last year things, but I think relevant to us as well.
First, I recall that about this time last year, I sat down with a friend of mine and gave -- for the first time -- a sort of blow-by-blow account of life in Iredell last year. I described some of our bad beginnings and proceeded to say, "And I think that's the point at which being a real Christian community became impossible for us." He called me out on thinking that way, because, of course, change, repentance, forgiveness -- it's all always possible, especially with God's grace.
Second, I think about what for me is one of the most powerful instances of that: my relationship with Jana. Like so many of the relationships in the community last year, ours was strained and marked by a lot of distance and silence. And then one day, for no real immediately apparent reason except the sense that the community was falling apart (maybe she can remind me of something), and clearly with the help of God's grace, we closed the gap. It was amazing. And it happened as we were sitting around the kitchen table.
I guess I'm thinking all this because I'm feeling the distance. Some of it is as simple as geography, and as missing out on good-byes to Liz and Joey before they left. Some of it is the distance we've talked about from this spring, the ways in which so many of us were pulled in different directions. Much of it is me, my own distractions and choices, diving into other relationships, sometimes at the expense of those in the house, though for the most part not consciously so. I'm not saying that our distance is the distance of last year; nothing about it seems so oppressive or silent. And distance and silence aren't bad things, always. Sometimes they give you a certain sort of "breathing room," time to reassess, readjust, re-commit if need be.
I wonder what, for each of us, the space and changes of the summer will bring. How will we use this time to grow, both personally and collectively? And I wonder, in these liminal times, what new hopes and dreams for our community will spring up, what new needs we might see, or what old ones we might find the courage to name. More the questions I'm sitting with, so far, than any real answers. Any thoughts?
posted by danedy at 11:07 PM
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