Wednesday, November 15, 2017

The Tale Of The New Girl On The Block

To Whom It May Concern: This story has no great moral or lesson. It is written love in heart and twinkle in eye.

Carry On.

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There once was a girl born in the hills and the sticks of the South. Her world was a happy, secure one, full of family and friends and close community.

The girl resided in a modest, two-story white house; the only home she knew. Her family attended a small, country church where the fellowship was rich and the sense of belonging strong. Her parents were pioneers in the little mission church; forerunners in it's history, position and story. She knew everyone, everyone knew her.

This was her world.

Years passed and the girl grew up. Opportunities came along the way to gain glimpses outside of her world -- attending Bible school, a year in voluntary service... Always, there was the safety of home to return to.

In the process of time, the young lady met and married a young man. This man chose to join her in her close knit world and they lived happily there, starting their own family and finding their own niche. Time had a way of bringing changes to the woman's community but it was still home; she knew and was known by the history and life of the place.

More years passed and the circumstances in life pointed the little family in a different direction. The woman now found herself in the hills and the sticks of the North (contrary to popular thought, there is such a thing), surrounded by the people and the places that were once her husband's world.

The people were friendly and kind and welcoming. The woman was not a complete stranger but here, there was no history; here, she was Christopher's Wife. Where once the activities of community were as natural as breathing, here they were a constant reminder of not knowing....

Here, you didn't take care of your own food for the fellowship dinner.

Here, there was no quilting on the first Thursday of the month but The Sewing on the second Tuesday.

Here, the ministers had an Opening before the message and Took Counsel at member's meetings.

Here, you heard what people said and had no history to filter it through.

Here, you did not know and you were not known by the history and life of the place.

Here, you joined Christmas program practice and learned all new songs while the rest brushed up on the fruits of years of practice.....

So it was, that six years later the woman found herself standing, once again, amidst this group of singers one night thinking sarcastic thoughts and feeling as foreign as the day she had entered this world. A wave of sadness washed over her as she stood amongst the friendly, smiling people who told her they were happy she was there.

You see, she knew what it was like to be them; the fun, secure place it was to be -- to know all the memories, to share all the history, for all of it to be as familiar as the air you breathe. While the sarcastic thoughts danced through her mind, in her heart she could hold no resentment towards these people; reality is simply a part of life.

Could they have stopped to think a little more what it was like for the newer people in their group? Probably. Was there really anything they could do to erase her wave of sadness? No. Had she done the same thing to countless people in her own life? Definitely. Was it worth being sarcastic and annoyed and never coming back? Doubtful.

So, the woman went her way, pondering these things. And when she had filled her husband's ears and he had laughed heartily (as she knew he would) and said things like "Dose of your own medicine" and "I told you so" (as she knew he would), she picked up her music folder and changed the subject.

17 comments:

Regina said...

Very nice post Bethany. I think I can relate to the lady in the story. We moved to a new state last year and even though, we've been here a year, I still haven't made close friends at church. Actually, the close friends I have are women are outside my church who share common convictions that my church does not. But they live about a hour to two hours away so it's not always easy to get together.
Anyway I loved this post and I'm glad I found your blog again.

Anonymous said...

I was just talking to someone about this the other day. One thing I loved about coming back hom from V.S. was knowing, really knowing, who people are. For many of them I knew parents, siblings, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins... and it was relatively easy to understand where they were coming from.

I think that is one of the sacrifices that those on the foreign field make, often going where there are few connections to their "other" life, needing to start from scratch with relationships, friendships, etc., besides huge cultural changes. That's not to say there is none of that if we stay in the U.S., but it's on an even bigger scale abroad. LRM

Bethany Eicher said...

I do have many new friendships that I enjoy but there is just no way to manufacture the bond that comes from sharing history with people. Glad you're here too 😊

Bethany Eicher said...

Yes. It has made me think hard about those who come from non Mennonite background. How much the sense of not knowing nor being known must be magnified for them?!!

Carla Clendenning said...

Sometimes very magnified. 🙈

Bethany Eicher said...

Like, thousands of times magnified, right Carla? It's something that no amount of friendliness and being nice can erase, it seems... ❤❤❤

A transplant said...

Do the feelings/thoughts ever go away and you realize this is really where you want to belong?

Bethany Eicher said...

I really am not sure. I know they can, because once upon a time my parents were transplants too! If I'm honest I would have to say that probably won't happen until a person wants it to.... Which is a harder place to get to than one might think.

Anonymous said...

I understand where you're coming from. In the last eight and a half years, I have lived in two countries, and three states. The longest we stayed in one place was just under three years.

Anonymous said...

U worded it perfectly! I totally know the feeling but didn't know how to put it into words. Reading this made me teary-eyed (Ok I'll admit pregnancy hormones make me cry very easily but...) And brought back memories of fighting down my own sarcastic thoughts. I've lived here and went to this church ten years now and it definitely is SO much better. Oh I used to compare EVERYTHING and how much better my area and my pple did things then his area and his pple. It did help to try to accept them and not compare. I wonder too how to help newcomers... ???
MAG

Bethany Eicher said...

O wow, that's a lot of changing! Maybe, as a dear friend told me, the more often you put down roots the easier they sprout ❤

Bethany Eicher said...

That's a hard question. It definitely takes effort from both sides!

Unknown said...

As a person who lives in a place where my family has been a part of the history for generations, I know that security of KNOWING. History, background, where I fit in, etc. And this post helps me realize just how difficult it is to be a transplant. Beautiful, thank you.

Regina said...

I come from a non-Mennonite background but now my convictions line up with Mennonite teachings which are Biblical. I'm the lone for lack of a better word "Mennonite"(headcovering, modest dress, etc) in my Baptist church and it hasn't been easy adjusting to our church. It's easier for my husband and daughters because they don't share convictions. I would love to be a regular atendee/member of a conservative Mennonite church but that's not going to happen. I'm very blessed though to have Mennonite ladies who can encourage me in my walk with the Lord.

Bethany Eicher said...

I was one who did not really realize how difficult it is. It's such a complex deal, complicated by the pride of those with history and the reactions of those who don't. You can't really place full blame on either side....

Bethany Eicher said...

God bless you as you walk faithfully right where He has placed you!

Anonymous said...

Oh, I can relate so much to this too! I've been in this situation twice since we're married, and now am back in the church where I grew up. Yes, I have history here but there's also a huge chunk missing for me and them both. Much humility and patience needed, both of which I am sorely lacking. Thanks for being vulnerable in this way! -Karen