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.