Its a Choice...

I sat and talked through most of dinner last night about community, with a few people that were keen on starting a community over the next few years.  I was glad to hear the thought that they have been putting into this idea and not assuming they know how to be community, or that its as easy as living together and sharing.  To people who say they want to live in community, I find that I usually say something to the line of "you know its not easy don't you? You're going to be confronted with people who have different opinions than you, people who irritate you, people who are lazy or human, people who get it wrong, your going to be confronted with yourself."  Surprisingly this doesn't scare most people off (though maybe it should). Again and again, community offers the chance to offer grace, to realize that others as well as ourselves will get "it" wrong most of the time.  Communion with other people (another way of saying community) is a choice-- a choice to act on love rather than fear or anger or pride. And it is also a choice to trust--trusting that the other really is acting out of the best way that they can express love and best interest for others.
When this idea is acted upon well, laughter fills the halls and no one wants to leave the space because of the sweetness. When something gets in the way like fear, mistrust, or pride...the stones turn cold as words of hate are spoken and doors slam that you wonder if they will ever open again.
Last night some doors slammed as choices were made to hold on to mistrust that deeply grieved my heart.  I cannot, no matter how much I would like, make people choose love.  For those who did chose love last night I was privileged to watch the Congo line dance out the front door singing Backstreet Boys hits; then as I moved to the window to watch them walk away from the house, I saw the beauty of community as a group of people (who would not have even looked each others ways a few years ago), hung out for 5 more minutes on the sidewalk chatting away.  Nothing forced, no one could say well it my job, it was from their heart, their choice to choose Love.

A bit of writing without a title...

Here is a recent bit of words written down in creative form that I wrote.  I don't know what to title it but it stems from a few images from scripture, mixed in with experiences of waiting and watching and other encounters of life in each day:

The blossom awaits deep within
Looming in the uncertainty of future
Petal after gentle petal waiting.
The succulent smell of sweet grass
confident in their roots, daring toes to wiggle
in its soft tenderness.

I have waited all winter,
Spring is near past
And the scorching heat of summer threatens
The well made plans falter--
Part of brokenness that rears its ugly head;
This is not as it should be.

Who will water my tender Love?
Who will care for each blade and courageous root?
Will all stand by and shake as a leaf in the autumn wind from fear?
Will the strength, that once was, be mocked with pride?
Will ignorance ever profit the one who turns the eye away?

Oh valiant one, I see you,
Hiding where there is no fruit,
Are you filled with stone that drags to the depth of the sea?
Oh, that you were a stone upon a stone built into an alter
Meant for the sacrifice of the sweetest sweetness to my nostrils
Or  be as clay crushed, softened, molded for good pleasure
shaped into love as I Love.