Narrowing One's Choices to Build Connections in a Broken World

This week I was inspired by an excerpt in the The Week magazine,"Why we hate us", by Richard Meyer, from his book by the same title. Meyer describes, quite accurately I think, how American society is breaking down and we are left frustrated and angry. The reason? We've cut ourselves adrift from tradition and one another.

At the close of the excerpt, however, he offers an idea on how he is taking a small but brilliant step to remedy the problem. He does it on his lunch break. Meyer recalls how it started with ordering a sandwich:

"...The sandwich had tomato on it. I asked for no tomato.

I vowed to never, ever buy lunch on a workday from a stranger again...So now I get lunch from Frank, Art, or Tommy, guys I have come to be friends with who run three different places. I like them...Lunch is now a social part of my day, and I feel like I work in a real neighborhood, which it really isn't. I love being a regular. I love purposefully limiting my choices instead of expanding them...I don't ever hate lunch anymore. I consider lunch one of my greatest triumphs."

-From Why We Hate Us by Dick Meyer. Crown Publishers, 2008.

Care-Choked vs. Hospitably Connected

The farmer's markets in Lincoln are closed for the season, and I am left feeling a bit sad and wistful. When I lived in Asia, going to the open market was an almost-daily activity that allowed personal interaction and language practice. I got to know my regular fruit, vegetable, and meat sellers--or rather they got to know me. Sometimes I would just sit down in a friendly shopkeepers store and chat in Vietnamese or Chinese, depending on my location at the time.

Instead of improving my foreign language conversation skills, my energies are now directed toward getting the best deals, clipping coupons, making sure we have the groceries we need for the week. It was nice to not have to concern myself so much with those things during the years we lived abroad.

Meanwhile, I think of women that I know here and now who I really should call and get together with, yet there never seems to be enough time. Unless it is a regularly scheduled playgroup or MOPS meeting, people get crowded out. If a friend called me, I would gladly find a time to meet. Yet for me to take the initiative is hard. When would we meet? Where? The chaotic state of my house is a formidable barrier to connecting with people. How can I leave when it looks as it does? How can I ever host even a friend?

Perhaps these same thoughts lead to other women doing as I do--wishing for more fellowship but struggling to take concrete steps to build it into the rhythm of life. The crush of undone tasks is overwhelming. But perhaps we could bear one another's burdens? Take turns watching each other's kids so one person can catch up on important tasks at home. Then, if the urge to invite someone over strikes, or a friend stops by unannounced, we can welcome them unabashedly, as my shopkeeper friends in China and Vietnam always seemed to do.

Starting Out

Thoughts are always swirling in my head on how to be the woman God intended me to be. I sometimes wish I could see the happy moments of earlier generations of women who lived and loved their families well. They did so without the distractions of the internet, T.V., and a myriad of scheduled activities that have families spending more time in the car than making the home a pleasant place to work and play.