One night last week, I was able to pawn off some of those brownies I made last Monday, in all their calorific glory, on the women in a group I’m in at my church. Thank goodness for community! …or I would have eaten the whole pan by myself, because Justin doesn’t like brownies when I put chocolate chips in them.
Thank goodness for community.
In addition to the brownies, I was able to share some news with these women, and they immediately prayed for me, gave me hugs, and somehow made me feel like I have family right here in Arlington, where I’m physically hundreds of miles from my actual family.
It feels like a fluke to have found community this fast. We’ve been here less than two months. In Missouri and in Houston before that, it took me months upon months to connect people outside my family into a network remotely resembling a community around myself.
I’m naturally an introvert. I remember dreading the first 20 minutes of each meeting, for the entire first year, in the first moms group I joined in Houston. All those other women who already knew each other would chit chat to catch up with each other while I tried not to cry and waited for the discussion of the book we were all reading to begin. By the second year, I looked forward to the 20 minutes of chatting before starting the meeting late, because those women became my friends, too. But it took a year!
In Missouri, we thought it was a temporary move at first, so I didn’t bother trying to make new friends for several months; I just stuck with my family (we were living with my parents and most of my sisters then, so that was easy). A couple of my high school friends were still around, but they were single working women, and our schedules often just didn’t line up. Some of my other “old” friends who were moms, too, also had jobs; hence, scheduling problems.
When our plan changed to “we’re staying here in MO indefinitely,” I joined a new moms group and participated an “appropriate amount” for someone who wasn’t a member of that church. The women at my table for the year were wonderful to talk to those Friday mornings, but none of us made much of an effort to get to know each other outside meetings. So, I spent most of that year wondering when I would meet another mom I could actually have playdates with.
…waiting for a friend, waiting for a friend…
During my second year in that moms group was when we finally got to buy our own house. I dusted off my hosting jacket (figurative) from college and had a couple of flops of “parties” for Friendsgiving and New Years. But for the Super Bowl, we went ALL IN. We wanted a house full. Hosting parties brings out social gumption in me that I normally lack, so I extended some “risky” invitations, and I’m so glad I did.
The day before the party, I had invited one particular mom whom I’d only just “officially” met (I mean, we knew each other’s names from across the park at moms group events, but we had our first actual conversation at a coffee meetup the day before the super bowl). She didn’t have plans yet, they came… A week later, we ran into her at the library, I invited them over for quick grilled cheese sandwiches before everyone parted ways for naptime… And suddenly, I had a friend. Our kids were the same ages, and they got along well. Our parenting philosophies were not identical, but absolutely compatible.
We began having play dates once a week, the relaxed, at-home, take turns whose house gets wrecked by 4 toddlers kind. We emergency babysat for each other a couple times. The best moments were indulging in a cup of coffee together while the kids were upstairs in the playroom unsupervised. Wish I had “for real” met this gal the day we moved back to MO, instead of two years later.
Starting with the above friendship beginning to blossom, the next few months felt to me like the “I Belong Here Spring.” The women at my table this year at moms group–and I–were reciprocally planning ways to hang out outside meetings, with or without the kids. Both of my working mom friends, whose children and worldviews also got along respectively with mine, quit their jobs and studies to be stay at home moms; they had time for weekday playdates now. I found out about my church’s weekly pre-schooler moms play group, and was enjoying getting to know these ladies who shared my current state of life and my faith. We hosted a few more successful, smaller get-togethers at home with many of these new friends, and I finally felt like I could say I had a real, not to mention extensive, supportive community other than family.
And shortly thereafter, Justin got a new job.
And we moved. Hundreds of miles, back to Texas, but not back to Houston.
Reset.
I’ve learned about myself that even though I am an introvert, I need to put myself out there to make friends. And I need it even more when I don’t have family around the corner.
We haven’t stayed anywhere much more than two years since we got married. This time, for various reasons, we said, it’s for “at least five years.”
I know I hate the beginning stages of building my community. I have almost cried again at one of my new moms group meet ups here, just because I hate feeling like I don’t belong.
But here’s what I’ve learned: I won’t feel like I belong unless I go often enough to feel like I belong.
I mean, duh. But before, I kept waiting for friends, for someone else to notice I needed them. The thing is, they probably all look at me and see what I see when I look at them: “She probably already knows everyone and has plenty of friends. Why would she want to bother to add me to her friends?”
BUT Y’ALL, WE ALL CRAVE COMMUNITY.
Anyway, I made a resolution when we moved here. I resolved to put on my big-girl panties and join some stuff, and “fake it till I make it” even when I want to cry, because I need a community. And I had no intentions of wasting up to 20% of my time in Arlington (one out of “at least five” years) waiting around being lonely and feeling sorry for myself.
So…
I went on a retreat and joined the attached women’s group at my church. They helped me find a babysitter so I can keep going to the meetings (a good business model I must say).
And I joined the moms group at a different church. And two out of the three times they’ve met since I got here, I’ve had excuses for why not to go. But I went anyway.
Growing pains always suck.
But if there was any good that came from putting down and promptly pulling up my roots in two different places in under five years, it’s probably that I learned to by golly put the roots DOWN as fast as I can! Might as well bloom this year, girlfriend!
- Small talk: out the window. Seriously, let’s get straight to talking about our favorite baby names. (True story.)
- Fear of being rejected or judged: in the trash. I mean it’s still there…that trash bag is still in the garage and not yet on the curb. But at least I bagged it up, right? Especially with other moms, I’m learning that we all have insecurities, and most of them are actually more worried about what their own 2 year old is about to break than about whether I just got out a fresh banana or a package of “cheese and breadsticks” (in quotes because…what even is that stuff?) for my kid to snack on. And honestly, we’re all at moms group to talk to adults. I’m pretty sure we all deeply desire to be able to make the peace sign and say “hashtag relatable” to every single gal in the room over something (anything!).
- Excuses like “my house is a mess” for why I “can’t” go to something or host a playdate: completely buried in said mess. This house is a fixer upper anyway. The floor needs picking up, the floor needs refinishing, it’s all the same.
So I’m signing up, I’m showing up, and this introvert is linkin-logging herself a community, whether they want me or not.
So far they seem to want me. Hope they’ll keep me for at least five years!
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