Community

As I've mentioned before, moving back in with my parents has been a very humbling experience...especially now that most of my friends from this side of the U.S. are married with children or well on their way towards one or both.  I've been in a place that is overwhelmingly career-centered for so long that I've had to readjust to a family/community-centric atmosphere.  However, though there were several reasons I had to return to Alabama, this community is one of the reasons that I wanted to move back.  Everywhere I've lived, I've met kind, caring people who have gone the extra mile to help me when I needed it...but thus far, I've never found another community like the one in which I grew up.

The night before last, one of the pillars of my church and my childhood passed away.  A man who made sure the church air conditioning was turned off after service and the doors were locked.  A man who cut the grass at the local recreation center with little recognition.  A man who came to the aid of his neighbors with no hesitation.  A man with whom I talked Alabama football at last Saturday's fall festival.  Even with older people, it's hard to come to terms with the here today and gone tomorrow part of life.  It's hard to reconcile the fact that I shook his hand on Sunday, but I won't next Sunday.  Things change in the blink of an eye.  People are gone in an instant.  It makes you realize the fragility of life...and the importance of the imprint that's left behind.  For this man, it's his selflessness...and I believe that's one of the most cherished imprints of all.

Now that it's this man's family who are in need, the people of the community are rallying around them.  As soon as the news began to spread, ladies headed to their kitchens to make sure the family wouldn't have to worry about food while they grieved and made preparations...and men asked what they could do to make things a little easier.  And tonight, a line will form outside the funeral home as people - one-by-one - offer their condolences, pay their respects, and share their memories.  Though it will all go by in a flurry for the family that lost their loved one unexpectedly, someday soon they'll look back and be humbled by the seemingly unending supply of shoulders to cry on and arms reaching out for support.  I know this because I've stood in their places before...and inevitably I will again...but every time I witness this outpouring of love and consideration, I am even more amazed at the power of a community to pull together just at the moment they're needed.

Am I suggesting that my community is perfect?  No, certainly not.  Some days it feels that more of the news circulating around is bad rather than good.  People struggling, people suffering, people getting into trouble of this sort or that...just like most everywhere else in the world.  I'm not even trying to convince you that it's better than your community...but it's a wonderful fit for me.  Unlike in Los Angeles, it's difficult to live here in complete anonymity.  People either know you...or they will soon...and if you're in need of some sort, somebody will do their best to give you a hand.  I've moved away before - and it's likely I will again - but as they always have, I'm certain that this community...these people that I love...will make sure I never lose my connection...they are my roots and my foundation...and they always will be.