Developing Community: Moving Towards a Space of Vulnerability, Intentionality, and Diversity

It was a mid-August afternoon in Texas when I moved to an apartment on Daughtrey. Turning onto that street for the first time began a reel of unknowns. The one thing I knew was a deeply rooted faith and the assurance it gave me that for some reason, I was meant to be in this foreign town.

My parents moved me in and helped me explore this new city for a few days, but eventually this new place had to become my own. I tried out the coffeeshops (which didn’t compare to the ones back home) and became acquainted with people at my seminary. I found interest in what I was learning and “plugged in” wherever I could.

Quickly, however, I began to realize a need in myself for deeper community. I longed to be around people with similar mindsets. Mindsets that didn’t just recognize but acted on vulnerability, intentionality, and diversity. These types of mindsets had been prevalent in the community I was around at my undergrad, so I was puzzled as to why I was overlooking them here.

Serving international students is a passion of mine, so I figured it would be best to start there to find those similar mindsets. I met with a coordinator from the campus international office to discuss ways to be involved with international students. He mentioned wanting to connect me with another girl from my seminary who had similar passions. Little did I know, later that same day, he would be meeting with not only this girl, but a third girl who also wanted to serve international students.

I received an email the next day from the girl at my seminary, and we planned a time to get lunch together one Sunday. We met at a hole-in-the-wall Mexican restaurant (because both of us were new to the area and had no idea where anything was). This first meeting with a stranger was awkward, somewhat uncomfortable, and kinda weird. But community was forming.

Eventually, this new friend and I joined a new group with the focus of serving international students. After the first meeting, I got coffee with the undergrad student who was leading the group. We shared a little about our stories, eventually realizing she was the third girl who had visited the international office coordinator that same day I had. Then, she worked on homework while I read for class. Again, this first meeting with a stranger was awkward, somewhat uncomfortable, and kinda weird. But community was forming.

For homecoming weekend, I went to watch the university’s parade. I talked a little with another student from my seminary. She brought up having a passion for internationals, so I timidly suggested meeting up and grabbing coffee. We did just that at a local place called Pinewood, and as you can guess, this first meeting with a stranger was awkward, somewhat uncomfortable, and kinda weird. But community was forming.

Months passed, and I still felt less than rooted in this new city. I went home for Christmas break and met up with a mentor for lunch.

After describing my lack of community, he responded with an answer filled with wisdom, “You know, new good community will eventually form there, as it should. But you haven’t lost the community you already had. Sure, it’s more ‘spread out’ now… but you still have community.”

I took this and ran with it.

I sought out the community I already had in new ways via weekly FaceTime calls and snail mail. While still seeking out community where I physically was, I embraced the community already present elsewhere.
And eventually, I found community within this new place, too.

What started as awkward coffee and lunch meet-ups with a few people branched off to deeper friendships and introductions to new intentional people. A community of vulnerability, intentionality, and diversity formed. I found myself sharing joys and hardships with individuals of differing jobs, schools, families, and ages in different seasons of life.

In hindsight, I see various threads that string together the moments community was taking shape. I couldn’t have pinpointed it in those moments, nevertheless known that first mid-August afternoon how they would form right in front of my blind eyes.

As I sit and reflect on these things a year later on another mid-August afternoon in Texas in a new apartment (but still on Daughtrey), I see a new reel begin to spin. It is also filled with unknowns; however, there is now a known community to walk alongside while it spins. Yet the original one thing remains: a deeply rooted faith and the assurance it gives me that for many reasons, I am meant to be in this new home.

[Photo by Kari Shea via Unsplash]

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