Fall Musings on Friendship and Community

Deep breathe in, followed by a calm and relaxed exhale. I can feel the cool air entering my lungs. My chest expands and then collapses back as warm air retreats from my lungs. It's a brisk afternoon, with a bright grey hue blanketing the sky. Here I am, huddled part ways under my thick down-like comforter, pillows propped up behind me, staring out my bedroom window at the tall tree shrouded in ruddy brown and yellow hues. It's so cozy inside, watching the fall colors dance in the wind.

After an influx of visitors these past few weeks (and even months), I am feeling the need for a little relaxation and introspection. It's funny how spending time with dear friends from specific life seasons will do that. My best childhood friend recently stopped over in Seattle on a long layover and then I welcomed two college friends (one a former roommate, the other a hallmate) over back-to-back weekends. What fun we had, reminiscing over years past and the memories that have marked our lives in an unforgettable way. I just love being around friends, especially the ones you have history with. These relationships embody something so indescribably sweet and comfortable. It's easy to forget all the petty conflict or miscommunication we must have experienced "way back when", in the earlier days of our friendship. In retrospect, we grew close by living near one another and by allowing ourselves to step into each others' stories, however messy or inconvenient they seemed. 

Oddly enough, living in close proximity to others who you can share life with has become a novelty to me. Here in Seattle, most of my friends are spread out geographically, so the idea of sharing life together on a consistent basis seems absurd. Sure, the occasional meal together or coffee date happens, but nothing like the communal aspect of college, where my friends were literally right across from me or a few feet down the hall, in another dorm room. Likewise, growing up on Maui, my best friend lived on the same street. I'm pretty sure that we spent most afternoons and weekends together, just hanging out, playing ping pong or poker, baking brownies, or going to the beach. That sort of lifestyle made sense to me. It was natural and rhythmic, the idea of sharing life together in community.

I miss that. My heart longs for a sense of belonging and kinship, to be known and to know others. I was created for this type of connection, I can tell. Because every time I have a really great conversation with someone, whether it be my husband or a friend or even a stranger, who is honest and vulnerable and willing to make themselves known, it sparks this hopeful anticipation in me. It's a taste of community, of being a part of someone's else life. It's powerful. Even though I feel more removed from certain aspects of community I've enjoyed in the past, I want to keep pursuing it. Being intentional and relational and vulnerable--I think it's starts there. Proximity, well, I'll keep praying for that.