Community

I scrounge the fridge for leftovers and manage to compile a tidy treasure of goodies: stuffed dates from the show choir party the night before, a handful of my signature scones from the Divorce Care party a couple  nights before that. A bag of salad that I top with nuts and fruit and cheese. I pull out the bag of frozen wild rice and start the roux for the Byerlys’ wild rice soup recipe. That will be a win for me with my kids and my guests. 

I tidy the house a little but I don’t stress anymore. I leave a couple piles of stuff on the stairs so no one mistakes me for a perfect housekeeper. The kitchen floor remains daycare dirty because honestly? That’s a fight I can never win. My theory is, if my house is cute, maybe no one will notice it’s a tad dirty. So far, it’s a deception working well for me. 

Four women will arrive soon, most of them relatively new friends. We bond over similar life struggles and experiences and we value openness and vulnerability. These women have become treasured friends. We share triggers and traumas but we are each overcoming our own messy crap. We cuss and cry, celebrate and sympathize. We all remind each other we are doing the best we can. 

We are enough and we are OK. 

Community. 

I’ve got it in spades. Book club, Bible study, my church ministry team gals, Divorce Care groupies. The small band of women who will sit around my dining room table. I think FB fans count too! Daily I am encouraged by you, by her, by them. Whether through a screen or face to face, past or present friend, each relationship is impactful and insightful, and we speak truth to each other. 

My community didn’t just happen accidentally. I built it on purpose. Volunteering, sharing my heart, showing up, reaching out. This is how community is built. 

My friends arrive with chocolate and wine, shrimp and meatballs. We lay out a feast and dig in, to both the food and the events of the week. 

Our bellies are filled and our healing hearts are too. 

First Holiday

The afternoon was quiet, the fire in the freestanding brick fireplace crackled, eagles soared out the bank of windows from a living room situated almost precariously on a hill overlooking the lake. 

The holiday meal at my parents house had been simple. Only a half dozen of us this year but we held to tradition and ate turkey breast and mashed potatoes, boxed stuffing, because that’s what we like, and jello. We say the jello is for the kids but it’s really a nod to tradition and my grandma who always made it, molded, with fruit and whipped topping. 

This was a different year, absent one, but we felt close and the chatter rose and fell, the youngest generation spilling over their plans and dreams and ideas. It was a pleasant day and we all enjoyed one another. 

Change has come in waves and ripples. This day the ripples were smooth and slow and almost imperceptible. There were only thoughts of what we had and the present fellowship of the day and what was missing and changed disappeared like a shadow when the sun comes out. 

The rest of the weekend held plenty of fun. Two hair appointments in an empty salon made for a fun mother daughter date. Bowling for a birthday in which we all took turns scoring poorly. Except Megan. She surprised us by being fairly good. We laughed and we should have taken pictures of each reaction for a fun montage. Ah well. Some of my best ideas come too late. 

Another day we decorated for Christmas together, fluffing tree branches, wrapping string upon string of lights. It’s a tedious ancient tree and it requires a specific procedure to assemble and light, but I can’t seem to part with it. Two years ago I cut the bottom pole shorter to fit my house better and finally this year I fixed it so it wasn’t wobbly. By some miracle all the strings of lights worked and the two unopened light boxes remain for next year’s potential Christmas decor emergency. We sang with Michael Bublé and reminisced at each time honored ornament. 

It so happened by a second unexpected miracle that all six of the kids I claim as my own were available for dinner one evening so I threw together a table of cloth napkins, goblets and centerpiece, a simple Amish chicken meal and we visited around a fancy table in our loungewear. There was laughter and fun and compliments to the cook and they stayed at the table far past the clean plates. 

This is family. Changing and growing. Adjusting and thriving. 

It was the first year my expectations for these moments were met. The weekend left me feeling supremely content. 

My home is now festive with twinkles and trees and the sounds of the returned basement occupant’s bass booming or the occasional victorious gaming shout fill the house with life. 

Our first holiday separated is a memory and soon everyone will be home for Christmas. 

This is me

I’m sitting in a Caribou, eating a mushroom soufflé with a fork and knife, savoring each bite. I’ve already had a peppermint mocha this morning before my divorce hearing so I just have a brewed coffee in hand. The sun streams in from the winter wonderland outside. 

I don’t know what I expected for this day, but the day came and I woke to thoughts of a Christmas decor project at church and not anything sad or grievous. 

I feel settled and at rest. This is acceptance.  

A friend asked me this week if I was more terrified of the future or more excited. 

Honestly it’s not even a hard question to answer. I have not experienced fear. There has been peace that passes understanding. I eagerly await the future while remaining present in each new day. The only explanation I have for this calm is that I simply believe God’s promises. I believe his promises about my past. My present. My future.

What is faith without hope? Without actual belief that God is good no matter what? 

I cannot deny that this transition has been smoother than I ever would have expected and that God has given me not only what I need, but also what I want. He’s given me specific things that are meaningful to me personally, and make me feel loved specifically. 

Today is just another day. A chapter has closed but I’m nowhere near the end of the book. 

A couple friends interrupt my solitary reflection and merriment arrives. A mug is presented bringing a sassy proclamation and I laugh loudly.

The day promises delightful companionship, delicious food and      diverting destinations. 

There is much joy to be had. 

“I didn’t do it alone. I couldn’t have. I had help every step of the way...Find yourself faith. It helps...No. It’s everything.”

- Princess Alice, The Crown

My name is Kristina Joy. 

Follower of Christ.

Joyful one. 

No longer we. 

This is me.