Lately I've been thinking about how different people are. Not in the "man, she's really strange" different; rather, in the "he likes this and she prefers that" different. Just in personality and preferences alone, the range of diversity among people is staggering. Consider, for example, the vast contrasts between my husband and me: He loves all things meat (I'm convinced he'd order the beef-flavored ice cream if Ben and Jerry's happened to come out with one); I tend to stick with the green, leafy stuff. He thinks that merging into the lane of exiting traffic just prior to the lane's end helps with flow; I tend to be a bit more conservative and politely merge well ahead of time. He never takes things at face value and will question things to death until he understands; I accept things as they are without asking why.
And then there is the matter of sports. Kevin loves organized sports. Ultimate Frisbee, soccer, basketball, you name it: if it involves running with others and focusing your collective attention on a round, inanimate object, he'll play it. And, indeed, I can see why: the man is good. Quick, agile, and coordinated, he takes what could be considered a primitive, sweat-filled group activity and turns it into an art form. Okay, so the sweat is still there, and the sports he plays technically qualify as group activity, but you get the idea: he has a natural inclination and talent for team sports.
I, on the other hand, am not quite so gifted when it comes to throwing, kicking, or catching. Add a team full of people into the equation and you get a nervous, uncoordinated, relieved-to-sit-the-bench non-athlete. My saving grace is that running happens to be a solitudinous sport in which I am free to be as reclusive as I choose. The fact that I run on a one-person team (Go, Team Sara!) frees me to run whenever I want, wherever I want, as fast as I want, and as long as I want. Which is what running is about. Or so I thought.
Apparently there are other ideas about running. Last week I was talking to my sister-in-law, who made the outrageous claim that she prefers to run in (gasp!) GROUPS OF PEOPLE. I know! If you are anything like me, your first thought landed on one of two w's: either you thought weirdo! or you asked yourself why? Why on earth would anyone want to inconvenience themselves by planning their run around someone else's schedule, running faster or slower than they would ordinarily go, and forcing conversation during what should be a sacred time of silence, interrupted only by one's own exhalations and inhalations that mark a steady run? Does she not realize how much talking throws off your breathing?
Once I recovered enough from my shock to reflect on the reasons she might prefer running with others, I realized that my sister-in-law has got it right: she runs with people in order to experience community. Community can be defined as: a unified body of individuals; a group of people with a common characteristic or interest; a body of persons having a common goal; fellowship; relationships..also a pretty good TV show on NBC Thursday nights. Whatever definition you choose, the Bible is brimming with passages that command us to live in community with one another and encourage each other. This is our calling: to build relationships with those around us.
For some, the task of building relationships--of living in community--may be more difficult than it is for others. This is especially true if you are introverted, and thus prefer the company of yourself to the company of others. If you are anything like me, a perfect evening is one in which the kids are in bed, the hubby is off playing basketball, and you are curled up on the couch accompanied only by a cup of coffee and a book. And the dog. He doesn't talk, so he's okay. Just the thought of getting together with a large group of people causes you to break out in a sweat.
This describes me to a tee. While I've gotten better at socializing (at least in my mind's eye; perhaps I should check in with those I've been in contact recently), my preference still lies on being alone. Fortunately, for all our differences, my husband has similar preferences, although he is certainly less introverted than myself. Despite this, we both realize that as Christians we are called to be in fellowship with others. Thus, we've gone so far as to join a church community group (there's that word again).
We've been with this group for about three years now, and I will say that our community group has easily been one of our live's biggest blessings. The four families of which our group is comprised all live in approximately the same area and are in similar stages of life. That is to say, we all have young kids which pretty much dominate our lives at this point. Between the four couples, there are ten kids under the age of six, five of which were born close to within a year of one another. In fact, I think this is the first time in a while that one of the ladies is not pregnant or lactating (or both). Suffice to say, we don't have much trouble relating to one another.
A few weeks ago we decided to take the idea of community a step farther than the usual Sunday night get-togethers and rented a lake house for the weekend. You wanna talk about community? How about eighteen people--that's eight adults and ten kids--living under the same roof, sharing the responsibilities of cooking and cleaning, and dealing with each other's kids as though they were our own (sort of). The kid noise alone--the screams of delight, the endless giggling, the intermittent whining, the crying of the overly-tired, the bickering--was constant, save for the few precious hours of nap/quiet time and the blessed bedtime hour, (and even that didn't guarantee a child free period). Additionally, the workload required to prepare food for and clean up after that many people somehow grows exponentially when compared to the work required to feed one's own family. Add to that the fact that, unless you were born with the gift of being able to sleep through anything, if one of the other children deemed it necessary to wake up at 6:15, everyone else woke up at 6:15 as well. Which, as we all can agree upon, is a dreadful time to be up on a Saturday. Although I enjoyed myself, it took me a few days to recover from our weekend "getaway".
Despite the (many) trials that accompanied this particular living situation, however, the weekend was host to many precious highlights, most of which would not have come about independently of a weekend such as this one. Throughout that weekend we witnessed trust develop between our kids and other adults in the group, to the point where some were willing to leap off a dock into the water with them, hug certain fathers every time they saw them, and eagerly wait for the awakening of certain parents in order that they begin their next adventure together. Relationships among the children progressed as well, as some of the less socially inclined kids began preferring people to inanimate objects. The moms had huge chunks of time to engage in deep conversations about seldom discussed issues. And the dads did whatever dads do to deepen their relationships with one another (Foosball? ping pong? PlayStation?). It was a precious weekend that helped form and crystallize relationships.
So what does this mean? Given that we are called to live in community with one another, are we all to sell our houses and move into one large estate together, commune style? Maybe I should start running with other people, or better yet, join an athletic team. It might take a while, but I suppose I could learn how to catch--and throw--a Frisbee. Or to talk while I run.
Fortunately for me (and for the relieved ultimate Frisbee players out there) God knows that I am an introvert. He knows because He created me to be this way. He doesn't want me to sell my house and move in with a group of other people (yet) and He allows me my solitary runs because He knows that those runs are my way of filling myself back up. Look at how many times Jesus (who I believe was secretly introverted as well) stole away from the crowds to be by himself, to talk to his Father and thereby get refueled. Jesus needed this time away precisely so that he could deal with the crowds and their heavy demands on his time, patience, and healing powers. I don't have the power to heal (although don't tell this to my son, who still thinks that I can make all hurt vanish just by a kiss), but I do have two needy children and a husband to whom I must pour out my time. I have a community group that expects me to contribute, and I have neighbors with whom I must socialize. The very reason I am able to do what is difficult for me and purposefully build relationships with others is because I take that time for myself--I pray, I read, and I run. In no particular order.
And as for those people with preferences that differ from my own--the meat-eaters, those folks who are able to strike up a non-awkward conversation with anyone, or even those fine folks that have the capability to run and talk at the same time--carry on. I will celebrate our differences, even as I put on my headphones, bite into my tofu power bar, and proceed to run in the direction opposite your running group.
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