The Square Peg

I wasn't going to participate in today's blog carnival because the nomadic lifestyle I've lived hasn't allowed me to belong to a community for more than a few years at a time. But I thought about it a lot and after looking up the definition of community, I realized living in so many different places in my 42 years formed opinions about community that I'd actually like to share with you.

Spokane, Washington - my first community as a military wife. I probably grew more in this community than the others I've lived in. This is where I discovered my desire to have a real relationship with God. It was here that I had to learn to put my big girls panties on because my mommy was about 3,000 miles away and couldn't come to my aid every time something went wrong. Drewby was born here. And it was here that I met people who weren't family, yet cared for me as though I was. On the day Moose left for his one year deployment to Korea my friend Carla drove us to the airport to drop Moose off. When we got back to her car she presented me with a gift; a cookie jar with a custom-painted lid that matched my kitchen decor. Gifts are not my primary love language (that might be why I'm not good at giving them) but something about her thoughtfulness that day really ministered to me. I've never forgotten it.

Panama Canal Zone - the first community I'm able to remember. I was 5 when I lived there. Our apartment was on the fifth floor and the Panamanian kids who lived across the street would come running over when I would walk out on the balcony to feed our dog. When the pieces of dog food would inevitably fall over the ledge, the kids would fight over them because they were hungry and their families didn't have enough food to go around. I watched kids...fight to eat my dog's food. And I knew then I wanted to feed hungry people whenever possible. It was in this community that my beliefs about ethnicity began to form and I realized skin color didn't matter because we're all the same on the inside.

Warner Robins, Georgia - If you count both times we've been stationed here, I've been in this community the longest. I love the spirit in this city and it's a great place to raise a family. I've met some pretty neat people and it's going to be hard to say good-bye to them when I leave in a few weeks. I love my neighborhood and will miss it very much. It's quiet, established, and unbelievably beautiful in the spring when the azaleas and dogwoods bloom. I walk Zoe around our block most mornings and every evening and I love the images, smells and neighbors that I pass. I will fondly think of goth girl, who has long, black hair and always dresses in black clothes and shoes and seems barely able to eek out a smile when we greet her as we pass. And beer guy and gal, who go out for their evening stroll, each of them holding their beer can, with the soft-sided cooler holding the extra beer slung over his shoulder. Sometimes their stroll is more of a stumble, but they're always friendly and always smiling. And I'll miss the cloud of lavendar I walk into when we get near John & Kim's house (yes, I actually know someone's real name!). I guess it could be fabric softener that I smell, but I've tried 'em all and none of mine have ever smelled like that. In any case, I like that smell. And I like this community.

And finally, Starbucks. What, you don't think that's a community? Well, I've got news for you, it is. And while the coffee's great, I really love going because of the wonderful mix of the community that I see there. We can go there with our young, vegetarian, non-caffeine drinking, Bible studying, atheist, pagan, gay, ultra conservative, stuffy, free-spirited hippie, old, uber liberal, tattooed, nerdy, civilian, pierced, camouflaged fellow community members and enjoy each other's company while we sip our drinks or share a smackeral of something. Everyone from the freaks to the fanatics are welcome at Starbucks. And community, at its core, is nothing if not inclusive.

Thanks for hosting, Bridget.