Last year I had the opportunity to work a few Fridays at our local flea market. Rogers Market, (or Rogers Mall as some of us hicks call it), has it's own community. The merchants there know one another and look out for one another. Although I was not a regular, they welcomed me as though I was one of their own immediately. They showed me the ropes and even shared their gossip with me. It was an interesting and rewarding experience. It made me want to return and continue to get to know this diverse group of people that have found community in pavilions, cement and dirt floors, fruits, vegetables, and concession stands.
My first experience living in community (not counting growing up in my Italian home with my brother and parents), was almost 30 years ago. I was in a theater troupe that toured throughout the country. The women shared a house and the men shared a house. I don't recall using the word "community", but that's exactly what it was. At one point, there were nine of us living together at the "Sisters' House". It was a large old house next door to a Catholic High School and just about one or two blocks from our local state university. It was an experience I look back on and smile.
Not to be confused with another time about three years later when I moved into another "Sisters' House" in a different town with only three other women. When I look back on this time, I spend some time smiling and some time wincing at the conflict that consistently showed itself. There were serious tumultuous times. Some knock down drag out fights. Tons of selfishness and misunderstandings. It was still community. With a dose of hysteria. Some of the guys in our church called us the "Hen House". Although some of the women were offended by the term, I thought it was funny. Believe me, feathers flew!
I find the combination of "come" and "unity" interesting. Our cry for community, as God intended, in the first house was experienced. We lived what we believed about love and forgiveness in Jesus. My other experience struggled to attain the same type of community. We were too self absorbed.
Both experiences brought me closer to God. I mean that was the whole idea, right? It didn't matter how it was accomplished, either I grew closer to God because I experienced His love and grace together with my friends or because I ran to Him for safety and understanding. Both experiences were good experiences. I still have some close relationships with a couple of these women. From both situations.
I have also lived in "community" with families. I lived with a young family for about ten months who had two small children and then about 14 years later found our own young family living with them again, in my own home. Their family having grown to seven, it was a real interesting experience. Still, we are friends to this day, although they have moved to another town.
I have experienced a sort of community at my place of employment, which is also a ministry to those who find themselves in need. We work together to minister to those in our community who need food and clothing. We experience the joy of watching God work in individuals lives. We experience the sorrow of the death of young people on drugs or the elderly we love leaving this world. We marvel at the miracle of God's provision when we are struggling to attain food for our food pantry. We have conflict. This is community. It's life with one another. It's a call to unity.
