Sunday, July 10, 2016

Is There Really a Human Race?: Further Thoughts on the Search for Community

There's a children's book by Jamie Lee Curtis and Laura Cornell that I found while I was working as a paraeducator called "Is There Really a Human Race?" Even though I am about 20 years older than its intended demographic, I would have to place this picture book in my list of "top five most meaningful books of all time". The premise centers on a little boy asking his mom "Is there really a human race?" and then asking such follow up questions as:

"Is there pushing and shoving to get to the lead? If the race is unfair will I succeed?
Do some of us win? Do some of us lose? Is winning or losing something I choose? 
Why am I racing? What am I winning? Does all of my running keep the world spinning?
And why do I do it, this zillion yard dash? If we don't help each other, we're all going to crash."

In 2016, I've had two big prayers that I've been praying. The first prayer was for us to find a house and neighborhood in which to thrive, and I am happy to say that in May we moved into a home and neighborhood with ultimate potential. The second prayer was that we might find community and build purposeful, deep-rooted friendships here in Emporia.

Lately I've been having a bit of a minor identity crisis of "I honestly do not know if I am an introvert or an extrovert". I like being alone and thinking beautiful thoughts of complexity and reading books so good they make me jump up and down with joy. But my spirit comes alive when I am surrounded by others who keep me accountable, engage in conversation about those beautiful thoughts of complexity intertwined in the details of daily life, and challenge me to live boldly.  

During the fourth week of June I was gone to camp, and I am still existing in somewhat of a post-camp fog. If you've ever had more than a surface level conversation with me, you know that I. Love. Camp. It might be my favorite thing (despite the sleep deprivation). When I'm at camp, I give 110% to everything I do. When I'm at camp, I'm surrounded by beloved friends and camp family, living in community (even though logic states that we should not be able to do what we do in coming together at camp). When I'm at camp, I'm living out the best version of me, largely in part because of the strong community in which we exist. And now that I have returned to reality, I find that I'm feeling as though I'm in a slump or a fog, desperately craving community and accountability and vulnerability and connection beyond small talk topics.

I only write on my blog when my heart is full of thoughts that cannot be processed unless I go through the act of thinking out how I would convey them to others. Even as I type this afternoon, staring at the previous paragraphs I've spewed in the past hour, I find that I don't know how to complete the thoughts ricocheting around in my brain. I know that community and accountability and vulnerability and connection come in time, but sometimes I get impatient and irritated that it's not socially acceptable to walk up to people and say "Please tell me the deepest thoughts or dreams in your heart right now, and please let me in turn tell you about camp and life and love and the things that matter the most."

The last page of "Is There Really a Human Race?" outlines some quotes that I have been mentally repeating lately as a life mantra. This is the type of life I want to live, and I know that I can never live out such a life if I'm living without the support of community and accountability and vulnerability and connection:

"Shouldn't it be looking back at the end that you judge your own race by the help that you lend?
So take what's inside you and make big, bold choices
And for those who can't speak for themselves, use BOLD voices.
And make friends and love well, bring art to this place,
And make the world better for the whole human race."

So for now, I'm trusting Jesus, praying that He will provide these deep desires of my heart and that my heart will remain at peace even as I wait. I'm also trusting that community will be found in time, because I truly believe: we are better together.