Community
Last night I read an article in my latest issue of Real Simple about community. It has left me thinking. The article describes a Seattle neighborhood in which one family has worked very hard to create community. They have a home-improvement league of four families which schedules about eight projects per year. They work as a team helping out one family with a project on their home - just like an Amish barn-raising. Two of those eight times, it's their turn to have the crew help out on their house. They do as much as they can in a day, and then the remainder of the project is left for the family to finish on their own. This family also has a Supper Club with two other families. On Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, one family makes supper for all three. So, that means one night of cooking (for a lot of people) and two nights of having dinner delivered to your door. But the article was clear that it takes work and open communication to keep going -- for instance, they started rated the recipes with one to three stars, and any recipes with only one star get eliminated from the rotation.
You open yourself up to so many vulnerabilities with "community" like this... What if my lasanga only got one star? What if my friends botch up my home improvement project? But that, after all, is the point of community - vulnerability and the rewards that come after you open yourself up to one another.
I am still thinking about what this means for my life. Awhile ago, Chad had a vision of opening up our house two Sunday evenings a month for a neighborhood soup dinner. We would just let people know that there will be a pot of soup on the stove and if they would like to come, come. I have to admit that I was the naysayer when Chad had this idea. It seemed like a lot of work. What if I wasn't in the mood to be around people that Sunday night? Our house was too small. Our kitchen was not fancy enough. People would think we were desperate for friends or something. If there is an excuse, I thought of it. But as the article points out, community takes work and commitment. And too many of us, myself included, aren't willing to do the work much of the time.
You open yourself up to so many vulnerabilities with "community" like this... What if my lasanga only got one star? What if my friends botch up my home improvement project? But that, after all, is the point of community - vulnerability and the rewards that come after you open yourself up to one another.
I am still thinking about what this means for my life. Awhile ago, Chad had a vision of opening up our house two Sunday evenings a month for a neighborhood soup dinner. We would just let people know that there will be a pot of soup on the stove and if they would like to come, come. I have to admit that I was the naysayer when Chad had this idea. It seemed like a lot of work. What if I wasn't in the mood to be around people that Sunday night? Our house was too small. Our kitchen was not fancy enough. People would think we were desperate for friends or something. If there is an excuse, I thought of it. But as the article points out, community takes work and commitment. And too many of us, myself included, aren't willing to do the work much of the time.
posted by Alyssa at 1:37 PM
2 Comments:
Good words....I worry about the end of the honeymoon phase. Sure, it would be fun to have soup for a few Sundays, and hey, maybe we'd even meet some new people, but what happens when we simply get tired of it? Maybe just ONCE a month....Love you, Chad
Alyssa (and Chad): I would like to direct you to my friend Al Hsu's blog:
thesuburbanchristian.blogspot.com
Al is brilliant and insightful and takes on the subject of community in many interesting ways. I think you will find a lot of common ground.
Kristi
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