16 February 2016



I walked into a room full of other women, that first day, smiling on the outside and questioning what I was doing on the inside.  A group who seemingly all knew each other.  They greeted me and introduced themselves and I sat, mostly quiet, through the whole two and a half hours, just observing.

I had been invited to join this Bible study of other young moms by a sweet girl who stopped me in the church lobby to say hi because our sons were around the same age.  She later found me on Facebook and invited Gideon and me to meet her and her son at the park for a play date.  I went.  And then she casually mentioned the women's group and told me to come.

My mind jumped straight to Real Housewives when I heard about a group of young women and moms getting together.  Would they be talking about each other?  About me?  Is this a showboat of who has what?  Who does what?  But I went anyways.

One year into mothering and I had never had any friends with babies.  Two months into living in Beaufort and I didn't have any friends at all.  Not that much had changed since we moved from Charlotte.  I was just as secluded there.  And I think deep down, that is what pushed me to walk into the room that day.  By myself.  Despite my fears and anxieties about their thoughts on me and mine on them.

And it was one the best decisions I have made.


I'm seeing more than ever that life is fluid.  Ever changing and easily moving from one thing to the next.  And often I feel caught in the undertow of it all just holding my breath and praying that the current doesn't slam me into a rock.  

The fluidity often catches me off guard.  

Settled in our house, two kids.  Check.  All in place.  Friends, kid's friends.  Check.  Job, financial stability.  Check and check.  Community, home group, Bible study. Check.

And then the current picks up and races past grabbing what it can and quickly flowing down stream.  

Two weeks until that baby is a year old.  

Ten months until you step away from that stable job and financial security because God is calling your husband to plant a church.  

And the community.  That community you have fallen in love with.  The friends that you count as family.  The ones who you spend long mornings and afternoons with, allowing tears to fall as you talk about hard situations.  The ones who give advice and take it just the same.  The ones who hold your baby so you can get a moment to eat and then you turn right around and take theirs so they can too.  The ones who drop crackers by when the stomach bug hits and who cheer you on as you wean that baby while dealing with feelings of guilt.  That community that was found within that room of women.  No Bravo style Real Housewives.  Just women, turned acquaintances, turned friends.  

And the reality of this little town sets in, as these friends begin to move.  A military life requirement. One that is hard on them as they constantly uproot and hard for me as I realize that our community here will always be moving and changing and flowing.  

For months, I've been fighting it.  Kicking against the current and ultimately getting no where.  Angry to see so much change and anxious about what it all means for me.  

And then I realized that the constant is and has been there.  Instead of fighting a losing battle with the water, I need to let it take me and allow it to slam me against the rock again and again.  He is the constant.  

So, as I say goodbye to friends, and yes, let those tears flow too,  I'll stand here and welcome the next wave of young mamas.  The ones who don't know anyone.  The ones searching for community.  And I will watch my baby take step after step on his own. And walk away from that for sure paycheck with my fingers laced through my husbands, and I will know that while life may be fluid, He is not.  

"I the Lord do not change.  So you, the descendants of Jacob, are not destroyed." Malachi 3:6

1 comment:

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...