Cramped Comfort

Ew.

I find myself saying that word a lot in our “youth flat” at 920 W. Wilson, Chicago IL. Sometimes? Well, maybe that is an understatement… um, yes. It definitely is.

It does not take long for 18 people to make one space feel rather small. I would say that our flat is an averaged sized one (maybe even more than average since we technically have four bedrooms and three full bathrooms). Yet, 18 people? Yeah, that’s a lot of showers in the morning. It not hard to imagine that things often get messy (in more ways than one – sorry for that cliché Jeff Gundy).

There is always a ton of hair all over the girls’ bathrooms (there are 14 females of us). Always. Even a few hours after I’ve clean it. Literally. We should start manufacturing wigs.

Our flat has mice. We catch them in live traps and then have to “dispose” of them. (I am conveniently never around for those moments).

I would not be surprised if I found out that all our furniture in the living was found sitting outside a dumpster in an alley.

Although I am grateful for JPUSA’s hospitality, the food here is nasty. (For all you Bluffton people, I would rather eat in Marbeck any day than eat here).

Yet, this is home – at least for the next few weeks. I sometimes have to remind myself that I chose to be here. I chose this?

I recently finished reading Sarah A. Lanier’s book Foreign to Familiar about the difference between hot and cold climate cultures. In her book, Lanier discusses how important community is to hot climate cultures, while cold climate cultures (like us) place more importance on space and individualism. I know this about my culture and especially now, living in a tightly compacted space, I find myself longing for my own space. Shoot. We can’t even unpack our suitcases and we certainly cannot escape each other, not even when we’re sleeping.

Still, deep down inside of me is this constant longing for community – real community – a kind that is intentional, loving, and authentic. So how can I get so annoyed about my lack of space but still want community more than anything else? I am a walking contradiction.

Stupid space issues. I finally realized that I have been placing way too much importance on space that I have been getting in my own way of having community. I want to be included but don’t realize that what I am doing is isolating myself. Community isn’t going to land on my lap. I have to be intentional about cultivating and sustaining it. Although all this sounds rather elementary (duh, Anna), but I never saw it in such a clear light until I read Lanier’s book.

With this revelation, I now try to look around at our intentional Radical Journey community with a brighter perspective. Although it’s still very easy (and I do mean VERY easy) to get annoyed I think I rather choose to find comfort in our closed quarters. To laugh, instead of getting grumpy when 2 people yell stuff in their sleep in the early hours of the morning. To smile, instead of roll my eyes when I can’t find a quiet corner. To dance, instead of spend all hours reading, when a sudden wave of energy hits the group of girls in the living room. These are the moments I crave, and I find that I mostly overlook them when I am so focused on “getting away” from it all. When really, “it all” is what I’ve been searching for this whole time.

Duh.