When I left DC, I left behind the familiarity and rootedness that comes from being in a place for almost 6 years… a wonderful church family, an absolutely amazing group of friends, and storehouses of memories contained in the streets and sights and sounds and smells of a neighborhood and city I love. DC had become home to me, but I ventured on to Atlanta when a job came open with an organization I had dreamed of someday working for.
I was in Atlanta for only 10 months. Due to some unforeseen circumstances within the organization, said dream job turned into something of a nightmare. But even in those short months, Atlanta too had become a home of sorts; I deepened friendships with friends I already knew there and met some incredible folks who I now count as some of my dearest friends. And if I had not been there during that time, I would never have ended up where I am now…
Tampa, the land of perpetual sunshine. When I arrived here, all that was waiting for me was a job I hoped I would love (I do) and an apartment to call home. Starting out fresh in a new place where you do not know a living soul is not cool. Or brave. Or any of those other encouraging things people try to tell you. It’s just plain HARD.
The first few weeks were really fun with setting up house, learning my way around, and getting used to a new job. The next few months were not so bad either. I was getting to know my co-workers and all the kids I work with and was enjoying a “normal” work environment. Summer came and went in a blur of church hunting, work trips, my old roommate visiting, etc. Then fall hit….very hard. I still hadn’t found a church, I hated the weather (no crispy nights, changing colors, or crunching leaves underfoot), and my nearest friends lived 8 hours away in Atlanta or 14 hours away in DC. That pretty much felt like the other side of the world. While those faraway friends were/are some of the best friends in the entire world, the one thing I wanted and felt like I needed, was something they were unable to provide. They could not be physically present and a part of my day to day life. And that was what I desperately longed for in Tampa: community.
Community is hard for me to explain, especially now that I’m finding it again through Living Stones. While it was absent, I couldn’t fully describe it either, but I knew it was missing and I ached for it in the depths of my being. I wanted community here in Tampa. I wanted to feel like I fit and belonged and could feel at home. Community is being with “my people”. And being with my people is being home, no matter where I am geographically. My people are those whom I am totally comfortable with who I know and love and who know me and love me in return. There is laughter, there is ease, there is comfort, but there are also tough questions and challenges. There is growth in a place of safety as life is done together….not just someone to celebrate your birthday with, but someone who is there when you’ve had a rough day/week/month at work, who will bring you OJ and tissues when you’re sick, who calls when they haven’t seen you recently, who remembers what you tell them and follows up on things that are important to you. The Living Stones community members are becoming my people. I am blessed to now have a home here in Tampa with “my people” and am looking forward to journeying with them as we learn to better love and serve God and the people He brings across our paths.
