Existence can be a struggle. Bad news lurks. Parents die; kids, too.
If my family weren’t scattered all over the country, perhaps they could be the buffer against life’s constant changes. But that has its own drawbacks.
While we’ve long had great and wonderful friends in town, many of them the sort that you could call in a panic at 3 a.m., we can’t co-ordinate our schedules enough to see each other with any frequency. It’s hard to build a community when you can’t get yourselves in the same room at the same time.
But every Sunday I see the same faces. I even know some of the names attached to them. We are united not by our shared God but by, maybe, a shared faith in large groups of people who want to be of service every now and again. Your church may be heavier on the deity talk — but I’d argue that the end goal is the same.
By the end of the service, if nothing else, I know who could use a casserole or two. And I know where to go if I should need one, too.
Adrienne Martini is a freelance writer, instructor at the State University College at Oneonta, mom to Maddy and Cory, wife to Scott, and author of “Sweater Quest.” Her columns can be found at www.thedailystar.com/parentingimperfect.