Thursday, September 14, 2017

We Bought a Farm: Community

We went back to the farm that night fed and warm in all ways, carrying pieces of cake wrapped up in napkins. I was entirely unused to that sort of common kindness. I didn't think that communities like this were supposed to exist anymore, in a country isolated by technology, mobility, and work. This was a place where neighbors took care of each other, where well-being was a group project, and I felt, again, that teary sense of safety I'd felt when I'd first looked out at Mark's fields full of food. It was a sappy and unironic feeling and a vestigial part of me protested against it, and then gave in. -- Kristin Kimball from The Dirty Life


Erin and I became friends through ballet. Well, we became acquaintances through the ballet our daughters danced together. But then she made the decision to homeschool. She contacted me for a bit of guidance. (Not sure I can give that but I can at least be a cheerleader.) She has two beautiful daughters all close in age with my oldest three children, and we all just hit it off. She met her Jamaican husband at college here in Greeneville, and they've fallen in love with this community. He works over an hour away, and they tried moving there, but ended up coming back to Greeneville and letting him commute because they loved this community so much.

Just over a week ago, I stopped at Erin's house to pick up some pears from her backyard for my pigs to eat. It ended up that there were too many bees on the pears for me to take them. So instead, we sat on her back porch just talking while our daughters jumped on their backyard trampoline. Erin's house sits just a few blocks behind my church. It's in suburbia but it has a backyard that feels a little like the country. They have chickens and vegetables and loved their multiple dogs and cats.

A few days later I sat in front of my computer in complete shock as a message came in from Erin. There had been a house fire, and they had lost everything including their beloved pets -- two dogs and three cats. An electrical issue above the dryer and taken the house down in the time that her husband had driven a few miles to pick up their daughter from ballet. No humans were in the house thank God.

We talk about beauty from ashes. What a privilege it has been to watch our entire community stand alongside one family. The Laws don't even attend our church as they hadn't found a church since returning from Knoxville. Churchless, our church scooped them up. Our ballet community has already held a fundraiser. And our homeschooling community? The one which they just joined? The support has been amazing.

My mom honestly started sobbing during a ballet practice when a little girl came up to one of Nick and Erin's daughters and handed her a new toy. "This is for you," she said. "Since you lost your toys in the fire."

I told my own kids, foolishly, not to talk about the fire with Hailey and Allie. But I immediately realized the error of that line of thinking. As Abigail and Hailey chatted before co-op about the loss of Hailey's pets, I realized that kids know how to handle these things way better than we do.

Within a day, a message came out. The family did not need any more clothes. There was a gofundme set up within one day as well. Gift cards and donations through our church and the co-op. The love and community was endless.

The town of Essex, sleepy with the approach of winter, had detected the presence of newcomers and roused itself to greet us. In one week, two people knocked on the door of our rental house bearing actual welcome baskets, and three others came by to invite us to the Tuesday-night potluck at St. John's Episcopal Church. I didn't know what to make of such friendliness. In the city, the only reason neighbors knocked on your door was to complain about the noise you were making. It occurred to me that there is more distance between rural and the urban in the same county -- the same state! -- than there is between cities on different continents. I would have felt more at home in Istanbul, Rome, or Yangon. Here, I was a true foreigner, making it up as I went along.

I have often said that I believe moving within the USA can be more challenging than moving to another country. When I moved to Turkey, I was prepared for the incredible cultural shock that was to occur. Same thing when we relocated to the Azores. But within the USA, you often aren't ready for the change that can occur. Some of my hardest transitions were moving between regions. Florida to Kentucky. Kentucky to Minnesota. Minnesota to northern Florida. And now back to Tennessee.

John's younger brother Matt (#5 of the 6 Kitsteiners) just got a job with the VA in South Carolina. He and his wife and young daughter and baby on the way will be moving at the end of this month. Danielle is one of my dearest friends, and she recently went house hunting in SC. It was incredibly overwhelming. "Wendi everything is so slowwwww. And the people are just eerily nice. And there are no water parks anywhere nearby."

Community can be anywhere. And when you find it, you know it. And you won't want to let it go. I love my elderly neighbors that have lived here since they were born. And my homeschooling community. My ballet community. My church community.

This is home. And I can't tell you what it feels like to say that this is my home FOREVER. I will not be moving (Lord willing) ever again. Ten moves in twenty years. And now, a permanent community!

This.
Is.
Home.

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