What does it mean to be part of a community? I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately. I have a disparate group of friends, you see. They don’t overlap, except for the intersection of me. In each, I have encountered difficult people and befriended them. This might seem like odd behavior on my part. But I view myself an outsider in many ways and am aware that others might also. Perhaps I am also seen as a difficult person by some. But these particular people I write of do not have many friends, due to their habit of driving others away. I don’t let their peculiarities upset me unduly, nor take their actions or words personally most of the time, even when they might be directed at me. I realize that more is going than I can know and act with detachment and kindness as much as I can. Because THESE, just as much as the people who like me and WHOM I LIKE AND GET ALONG WELL WITH, are my neighbors. THESE represent my community also. If you say that your neighbor is ONLY they whom you like, then your definition of family is stunted indeed. In my definition of how to be in community, I was taught that all of my NEIGHBORS count: good, bad, indifferent. And you help ALL OF THEM, whether you LIKE them or not; whether they LIKE you or not; no matter WHAT. And this includes reaching out to the lonely; checking on the person who lives alone; and hanging in there even when the going gets rough. Not because we’re all in this together. But because this is how it works. OR doesn’t. How’s it working, from where you sit? I’m hearing that it’s not, really. I’m hearing that from both my groups. Are there answers? I don’t know. My answers are the same three sentences I read every morning. I have them written down on a piece of paper on my kitchen counter. BE KIND. DON’T ASSUME. TRY HARDER.
