cracking the ring of fellowship

When I was a girl, I loved to talk. I read the word loquacious once in the vocab section of a magazine and proudly told my mom that it described me to a t. I liked talking to anyone of any age, younger or older; it didn’t matter to me as long as they would lend me their ear for a few minutes.

I loved social events, birthday parties, sleepovers, field trips…I lived for them. I drew flowers, cakes, and puppies around the happy days on the calendar, and eagerly waited for their arrival.

Then it happened. When I was ten, my family moved from Illinois to California, and my comfortable social world crumbled around me.

I quickly learned that I was not as cool as I thought I was, and that other people didn’t need me. I got burned a few...okay, more than a few times saying something dumb in front of my peers. I started talking less, and listening more. The listening was good and healthy. But the fear wasn’t.

I have been alone. I have started over in social settings many times, and felt the disagreeable feeling that burns in your stomach. The feeling that tells you no one else knows you, and if they know you exist, they won’t let on.

I soon sought out others who were on the fringe to talk to, because I knew that even though I was alone, no written rules said I couldn’t reach out to other loners.

Sometimes, after living somewhere for a few years, I became comfortable again. I had go-to friends and didn’t “need” to seek out anyone. I always felt guilty when I watched someone sit by themselves. Sometimes I rejected comfort and sat with them. More often I ignored as others had done unto me.

This lesson is still being learned, the lesson of fellowship. I still find myself in transitional periods attending nights of fellowship and food where I don’t belong. Sometimes I think the problem is I don’t eat the food. I have allergies, and it is a safer bet for me to eat before attending. Maybe my lack of participation in the breaking of bread with the faithful has harmed my social quotient. Maybe not.

What is the ring and how can I crack it? Often the problem is we all think about ourselves, and the most important person in the room is ME. I am not concerned about the comfort of others…as long as someone condescends to ease my social disturbance I couldn’t care less how others feel. When will I learn?