Most Fridays, I participate in the 5 Minute Friday link-up with the lovely Lisa-Jo at The Gypsy Mama. We write our hearts out in 5 minutes. No editing, no waiting for the most beautiful, most perfect, most killer blog. We write…cause we are a community of writers.
We are community.
We live in source code, HTML, a series of 1’s and 0’s. For the first time, we shrink ourselves down to 1 inch squares, smiling as we fill up our Twitter feeds, Facebook pages.
We are a community.
From the first clicks to the blog posts, we write and savor and eat up each others’ hard fought victories, our moments of despair, our moments of change.
We are community.
This morning, I can’t sip my coffee with mocha and Almond Joy creamer without thinking of my #coffeeclub friends. I think of Alise and Liza and Joy and Tamara–our mantra: coffee, prayer, and donkey balls. I love their open hearts and hands and willingness to cry with each other, to enjoy that double meaning one liner, and to make the blogosphere not so cliquey and shit.
We are community.
Now, you go write and link up too! And why not subscribe and be a part of my community?
Today like many other Fridays, I am participating in Lisa-Jo’s Five Minute Friday blog linky.
Write for 5 minutes only. Nothing perfect, polished, just write.
Stop after 5 minutes and resist the urge to edit!
Link up and comment on another blog.
Easy? But of course!
Today’s topic: Connected
Night approaches cool and crisp this winter. I sit feet propped up on the sofa, watching television , and hoping for my phone to ring. Ten years ago, I connected to people over the dinner table, the answering machine, and a landline. Now, I carry around an over-priced smart phone that rarely rings. But I continue to hope. Most days, my phone doesn’t ring, and I interpret this to mean I am forever disconnected with the outside world, unappreciated, unworthy of someone dialing my 10 digit cell number.
It’s hard to feel connected in a world where social media and cell phones overwhelm us. Even now and then, I twinge with jealous reading tweets or status updates about “I miss you” or “call me” or “I loved out chat.” Now, I know they don’t mean to hurt my feelings, but there haven’t been posts or tweets like those for me. Maybe, I have take the excuse that everyone is too busy to heart to push for a more connectedness. Maybe, I’m simply done trying to force connectedness. Sometimes, being disconnected from others is the only choice.
Too often, I feel like a discarded landline with too much static to really connect with others. While I put on the mask of quiet isolation, my heart longs for a connected community, a tribe, a place to belong. To be connected means friends checking in, a phone call, the need to feel together while alone. We all need this. But where? The church, no longer a place of community. I feel more alone there than anywhere else. Classes or hobbies? I don’t know. But somewhere, we must put aside this busy to connect. Will you join me?
Wet ground and cool breezes greet me today. How appropriate that today I remember. Why? Today is my last day as a 20 something. Tomorrow, I shall cross that thin line into another decade. While some may joke about being 29 forever, I will be perfectly content to leave my 20’s in memories. Memories, I can pick and choose to relish. Memories, I can pick and choose to forget.
I remember my last decade as being driven by fear. Well, it’s more sinister sister–stability and her twin safety. I chose a Christian college, too fearful to attend a secular one(and not allowed). I would lose my faith.
I remember choosing to be a Christian school teacher, too fearful again to venture out beyond the Christian bubble. Foregoing grad school(only for three years, I did go), I thought I would be safer in a community of Christian teachers. I wasn’t. My faith ripped out at the seams, destroyed. I didn’t want to put it back together. For me, my 20’s were more about living in fear, masking this fear as God’s provision and wisdom.
I remember meeting my Redneck Romeo and called him boring for the majority of our first date. Why, yes, out loud. Yes, social skills were not my strong suit. But I overcame my fears and now I’m blessed. I remember meeting my stepchildren, and their overflowing talkativeness meant I simply had to listen. Another blessed remembrance.
I remember starting this blog as a last ditch effort to tether myself to a faith community. Slowly, I found kindred spirits who had been torn apart my the church, and they helped rebuild me(check my blog roll for these lovely ladies). We call ourselves #coffeeclub. I remember opening my heart to them and they opened their hearts to mine.