Sorry I’ve not posted in a bit. The “day in the life” post will have to wait a bit longer.
I’ve been thinking a lot about community recently. Specifically, I’ve been thinking about how differently that word is coming to be defined for me. I don’t know that it’s necessarily a bad thing, but it’s definitely a learning curve.
I’ve talked here before about the unique nature of the AAI community. I’ve learned some hard lessons recently about not sticking my foot in my mouth with friends who may or may not believe like I do. There’s one guy I work with who very nearly worships the Gaithers, and another who attended a Vineyard stateside and is currently conducting healing services in the bible class he teaches. I’m afraid I might have let slip how I felt about both of their respective passions before they revealed them. The reality here is that I’m not surrounded by like-minded people. Neither is anyone else here, probably. Again, that’s not necessarily a bad thing, but it’s something to get used to.
There’s a unique quality to places with large concentrations of ex-pats. You find yourself sitting down for coffee with kinds of people with whom you’d likely not have much to talk about if they were your neighbor stateside. It cuts across lines of politics, race, religion — all the things that normally keep north americans neatly separated. All of a sudden, a graduate of UC Berkley can find something to really enjoy about a graduate of Wheaton; an African-American from inner-city Detroit can find common ground with someone not two generations removed from the hill folk of West Virginia.
In one sense, it’s a refreshing change. It kind of breaks the non-essentials down, and you find yourself looking for the things in common rather than the things that separate. On the other hand, you find yourself shifting into a mode where even some of your “moderately essentials” start to go underground. I don’t talk much about politics or theology, for fear that I might have less in common with my new “friend” than I thought. Particularly when they’re the only person in a mile or so in any direction that speaks your language.
Sadly, the community at the school isn’t really all that different. We have much in common. We’re all far away from “home.” We’re all adjusting. We’re all making do on far less than we were before. But we’re all from very, very different backgrounds. I can’t assume that the guy who’s sitting next to me in chapel holds the same views as I on baptism, women in leadership, evolution, capital punishment, abortion, or gay marriage. As long as we keep it very shallow, though, we can be “friends” during the time we’re here. I’ve wondered whether the nature of the community at AAI wasn’t more “ex-pat” than “missionary”.
The other major factor I’m noticing is just how fluid community is here. The person you completely click with and would love to get to really know may or may not be here in six months. You just never know. Rachel and I have been here just seven months, and have already had to say goodbye to one couple we really cared for, and are less than two months from losing another one. The guy that I’ve hit it off with the most down here is definitely planning on leaving at the end of the year, and may be gone in a month and a half.
One development that has had no small impact on us in this regard has to do with our home church, Oak Hills Presbyterian. I hesitated to even write about this, as I don’t want to offend anyone, but it really has been something Rachel and I have struggled with. When we left, really the only thing we told the leadership that we wanted was to continue to feel connected to what OHPC was doing, and vice versa. That hasn’t happened … not even a little bit. I’ll admit we didn’t know what kind of specifics to ask for in that regard. We had never done this before. In the church’s defense, neither had they. All I really know is that we had this amazing community there, and it all feels at least 3,000 miles away now. Both Rachel and I had grown up in the church, but really felt like we’d found family there for the first time. I had a friend challenge me on this whole deal a while back, and ask me just what it was that I was expecting. It’s a fair question, and I’m not sure of the answer. I just didn’t think it would almost entirely go away.
I don’t want you to misunderstand this post. I’m not miserable. I’m not really homesick. As a matter of fact, the last couple of weeks I’ve been noticing deep feelings of contentment with living here. I love the mountains more than ever. “Summer” is starting to kick in, which means it’s not raining every day now. Temperatures were up in the mid-70’s today. It’s beautiful here. I was just telling Rachel today that I feel like I’m getting comfortable with the level of alertness and defensiveness that you have to employ when out and about. The language is developing to the point that I can get around ordering off menus now, and can tell the cabbies where we need to go. (I’ve even taken a few cabs different places by myself.) I’m really content. I, of course, came down here knowing that a shift like moving to South America would change things about me. Lots of things have changed, and are changing. This is the first potential change that’s arisen of which I’ve been afraid, though. I don’t want to turn into that guy that is okay with shallow “buddy-style” friendships that don’t leave any sense of grief or loss in the wake of their passing.
I’m not really sure what to do about it.
