When Our Built-In Communities Break Down…Oh! And Why Us Introverts Need Extrovert Friends
I was born into instant community.
My family was complete with a loving mom, dad, and siblings. I had built-in mentors and a best friend in the form of an older sister and eventually two younger sisters as well, all with whom I could play or fight which tended to be what we did more than anything. Like I said, it was instant community, built-in to the fabric of my life from birth. I recognize how lucky I am to have had this, not everyone does, even if it wasn't perfect.
We also had church--another built-in community. My parents have been pastors or ministers of some sort my whole life so church services every Wednesday and Sunday and some times in between was a given, and we probably spent more time with our church community than any other.
Home was always there, even when we moved somewhere else, to a new town or church; we always had each other within our family and other people within our church who believed like us, talked like us, behaved like us.
My husband and I got married soon after his high school graduation (you're probably thinking we're crazy, but that's not the point of this story so bear with me). My first time living outside of my family home, I wasn't alone. I had another built-in community with Robbie, albeit a small one.
And we built on that little community of just the two of us by playing poker with some work friends with whom we are still quite close--our "poker buddies" as we affectionately call one another.
That's one of those beautiful little things about community and friendship. There's a belonging there in those private jokes, nods, and nudges. Although, if you’re on the outside of those inside jokes, it can sting worse than any bee or wasp.
All those late nights procrastinating on schoolwork and studying to play poker with our best "buddies" was one of my first tastes of getting to create my own community. The spiffs that naturally come from playing a competitive game with people only seemed to make us closer and appreciate each other more, and I am forever grateful for those beautiful humans.
But too soon, we all graduated from university and didn't get to see each other quite as often, so it became necessary to find or build another community in the town where we got our first teaching jobs.
Reliving our college days with the poker buddies
I mentioned earlier that I grew up with the built-in community that comes with being part of a church. Robbie and I had taken some time off church for a while so we could finish up school, and when we graduated, we both felt compelled to start going again so we began our search for one.
And for the first time, we got to choose--I'd never gotten to choose where I went to church before; I guess instead of built-in community, it can be more like obligatory community especially as a pastor's kid, and maybe for others as well.
But this new church felt different, perhaps because we got to choose it. I loved them and was loved by them, and it felt genuine, like I was loved for being me, not just because I was the pastor's daughter.
After several years of being a part of this church community, living and growing among them, they supported us and helped us fulfill a dream of ours to teach overseas. Leaving behind our beloved built-in community, we were sent as missionaries to Czech Republic.
moving day—headed to the airport with just these suitcases and my faithful guitar
And it was here, that for the first time in our lives, we felt lack.
No more built-in community through family, church, school, or even work, and what made it worse is that we were struggling to be each other's support systems. I was going through a mental health crisis. Culture shock had brought on anxiety attacks and depression like I've never experienced before, and Robbie was going through his own crisis, a crisis of faith. We both knew the other was struggling in our own ways and didn't want to burden the other one more.
I've never felt so isolated.
Our built-in communities had failed us, even the one we brought with us everywhere--each other. Not by any fault of their own. It's just the nature of things when you have to leave a built-in community for whatever reason, by necessity or by choice.
And this is where I first found myself having to make home by creating a community with people I had just met for the first time in my life. No more plug-n-play situations.
It was hard work. There was a language barrier, cultural barriers, and the title of missionary brings an isolation in itself, but it was necessary because we all need this elusive thing called community. We need each other no matter how much we may will it not to be so.
I worked, and clawed, and scraped, and cobbled together a small community for myself, sometimes dragging Robbie into it--And sometimes he would drag me. But we made it.
It took saying yes to invitations that we would have said no to in the past because we just wanted to go home and watch TV and recharge. It took pushing past the introvert blocks--my husband and I are both introverts so there's not a lot of balance in that area.
If you are an extrovert reading this, know that you're loved and seen and we need you to pull us out of our self-built introvert prisons sometimes. Sometimes.
Building a community took accepting help willingly offered by people we had just met, who owed us nothing and who asked for nothing in return. It took recognizing those offers as authentic offers of help, not obligatory ones that are fairly common among built-in communities.
It took inviting people into our mess on the not-so-rare occasion that we had no time or energy to straighten up the flat before they arrived. It took learning to be comfortable with the discomfort that comes with making new friends.
It took being open, even to people I never thought I'd become friends with, seeing past the tough exteriors and unsmiling faces and recognizing those things didn't mean they were unfriendly. Once you saw them, you really saw them, you would see the joy of hospitality underneath as they welcomed you into their homes and handed you house slippers so your feet wouldn't get cold.
Many spoke English, however broken or accented, I was able to understand them well once I became familiar with the cadence, and I would slow down so they could understand me, too. Understanding is vital to community as is patience. And there were many times when patience needed to be both given and received, a gift exchange of true community, as some friends never could string a sentence together in English, and my Czech language skills were lacking in this way as well, and yet somehow, I can say we were still friends.
It took seeing past the obvious differences like language, cultural norms and behaviors, and yes, even staunchly held beliefs and seeing the person embodying those differences, the little glimmer of treasure that is each human being that we miss if we don't take time and look carefully.
It took seeing people as people and not projects.
It took intentionality, slowing down, truly seeing and hearing people, listening to their stories, spoken or not.
some of our best friends that we met in Czechia—You can’t tell in the picture, but both of us were 8-months pregnant with our first kiddos
When there was no built-in community, I had to make it, and the community that was created from this need was far more meaningful than one that was simply handed to me because it meant I got to choose them, and they chose me, too, not out of obligation, but out of mutual respect, appreciation, and love. We saw the value in one another and that makes the most beautiful community of all.
If your built-in communities have failed you, maybe they fell apart due to circumstances beyond your control, maybe you moved far away from yours like I did, or maybe you had to walk away for another reason, know this: It is possible to grow your own, and it is a worthwhile process. It takes being open, being intentional, and it takes willingness to see the beauty and value in others even if they aren't exactly like you.
Life can be a lonely path until you find your people, and you will find them.
In the meantime, consider this a safe space and a community in itself, even if it's built-in. You're never really alone, and you're always welcome here. And maybe you will find yourself building a community that way, by providing a safe space for someone else.
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