Exile..

I knew when we decided to buy the land that I’d be leaving behind - forever - the sort of carelessly interactive city-life I’d been living. I’d no longer glance out my bedroom window and into my neighbor’s living room, no longer take a quick walk to the grocery store, or cafe. And I knew that would have repercussions in my social life - the easy popping by was no longer an option..I would have to be more intentional, more conscious of my own social life and expectations. I didn’t expect isolation though. Our home isn’t so far away as to make it a burdensome drive - twenty minutes from our old apartment in the heart of town; and being nurtured - as I was on friendships that are still strong despite the huge expanses of country that separate us, or diverging lifestyles (my dearest friends and I are often at odds about more important things that city or town, Latin Liturgy, or Novus Ordo), has made me ill-prepared for the social changes that came with our move.

I am beginning to learn the danger of intentionality - my life is not clear and straight before me. Thoughts and hopes are in flux. More than anything, I’m feeling the loneliness of introversion. Rilke reminds that friendships can inspire more loneliness than solitude, and this is true; but these are not the friendships I can hold to. Not to see them take intense focus and effort, yet languish. This month I am retreating back into myself, saying a quiet goodbye to those whose affection was not so much for me as a person, but for me as one of many - part of a community that stands still and watches dreams stagnate. And the goodbye is less bitter than it could have been. It’s grown into something touching forgiveness: aware that what I thought and expected wasn’t realistic. I expected a kindred spirit and an understanding from those who share little but faith with me..There are too many types within the Church for all to be compatible. And I’m mourning a little bit, because half-friendships wound too, when they’re abandoned..and because I can’t help but wonder if my daughter will spend most of her childhood standing at the end of the driveway, watching it disappear into the trees, and whispering “nobody coming, nobody coming”..too soon adept at exile.