Computers and Communities

Still no computer.

Like most things, I didn’t realize how much I valued my little computer until I didn’t have it around anymore. I’m not totally disconnected from Al Gore’s Internet (a phrase coined by my friend that sends me into a fit of giggles every time I hear it) thanks to my iPhone, but it’s just not the same. Hopefully I’ll have the MacBook back sooner than later. And now I should probably move on lest you think you’ve stumbled across an infomercial for Apple…

The last few weeks have brought with them an onslaught of change.

I moved out of my apartment and into a house with three other people. After living alone for two years, this should be interesting. And good. I think solitude has dulled my abilities to share and compromise, and already they are being sharpened again.

I went through a program at church to find a new community group. You may have heard it called a lot of other things—cell group, small group, home group, Bible study—it’s all the same idea. It’s just a group of people who meet every week to do life together and encourage one another in our walk with Christ.

The group of girls that I’ve ended up with is remarkably refreshing. I always feel intimidated about these things. In fact, I think most people do because for whatever reason, we think people we meet at church are going to be perfect and that it’s going to be a shameful experience when they discover how messed up we are. I say “we.” But I mean “me.” I have a quick temper. I’m overly critical of myself and others. I speak without thinking first. And those are just the ones I’m willing to share on the blog… there are only about a hundred other faults I have that are way worse. So yeah, I had some anxiety going in on this thing.

But the nerves settled when the walls started crumbling and we (this group of girls) started sharing about our lives. One girl struggles with Bulimia. Another spent time in jail after getting a DUI. Another has issues with co-dependency that have led her and kept her in toxic relationships throughout the years. Another girl grew up in an extremely legalistic environment and just thought God was a mean dictator for most of her life. Another girl came from a Buddhist background.

We couldn’t be more different, and yet, we’re all pretty much the same. What started as stilted conversation based on ice-breakers and a list of get-to-know me questions ended in the exchange of phone numbers and e-mail addresses and conversations about how impossible it is to meet a good man and where to find the best deals on shoes south of Highway 635 in Dallas. Ah, yes. Girls. We’re all the same inside. But mostly, we’re all the same outside too. Imperfect. Totally flawed. And accepted by each other in spite of it. I guess what I love about those girls is the same thing I love about my dance friends: the sense of community and shared interests.

And then, of course, there’s the dating thing.

Sometimes I just feel annoyed with the whole business and want to walk away from it. So many rules. So many feelings.

But then those butterflies start bouncing around and I remember… “Oh yeah, this is supposed to a fun thing.”

More on that when I get my computer back.