"The gift of community is that each one of us is absolved of the burden of completeness. In and of ourselves at every moment we can lean on one another for the elements we lack." - Rev. Keyes, Everwood Season 1 Episode 8

I don't think I've ever heard a more fitting definition of community than this statement as I was watching episodes of Everwood on my laptop while traveling home on the train from Rhode Island. It epitomizes many of the emotions I felt this week while away from home. It is true whether the community is as small as two or as large as can be imagined. It is heightened within our faith organization, as we few families attempt to come together in a regular and organized manner.

But the heightened sense does not make the building of community easier. And in fact, it is likely only heightened in the ones who have carried the burden of completeness for so long. I wonder now if one can get to the place of belief that such burden will never be lifted from our shoulders; that completeness will never be restored.

I don't wonder that blindly, in all honesty, I wonder that in the midst of experience that gave me a glimpse as powerful as alcohol poured directly on a wound. And I process this with the knowledge that within my only true community, a different and heavier burden is being carried. There is no absolution for either of us alone, and even together we must carefully address each other's burdens without adding to it from our own.

That takes a commitment with such demand that we often don't risk taking the chance, instead convincing ourselves that there is little to no hope can be gained and only more burden will result. If I take 20 figurative steps back, I hope that, like Doctor Andrew Brown in Everwoof, I, too, can look up to the sky and admit that I just have nothing left. I have nothing left of my own sense of how to become complete, and often my ignorance as evidence of the need to lean harder on the one I love. At the very same moment I must also be able to support the lean from my love, and I think it is precisely this moment we must be very careful to allow the other that leaning post.

This is the reality of community. This is the sadness of lack of community I identify with right this very moment and have been feeling longer that i've wanted to admit.

It's been nearly two months since I've journaled or blogged, and it definitely shows in my day to day life. Having a new baby stretches everyone thin. I agree with those that say adjusting to two is harder than the first. It's non- stop and I know it is exponentially harder on A*. Anything that we want to accomplish as adults either has to be done alone or when they go to bed. And with my new job, writing during the day is reserved for writing on work-related things, as that is part of my job, too.

Last I wrote I was deciding on two offers. Long story short, we decided on the move and then had the economy problems pull it right out from under us. But I still have a new job, sort of, and it is busier, too. Out of it I got an iTouch and so I'm writing on that from bed. It's not as faar as using my computer, but it gives me a chance to write - that and my neighbor's wireless.... Yes I'll get my own soon, but I do have their permission.

It's nice to be able to take just a couple of minutes to let some words find their way out of my head. When it seems that we are always running, playing, holding, painting, feeding - did I say playing? - this is relaxing my brain so I can actually fall asleep instead of thinking about what I need to be doing in the morning. So we'll see how this way of blogging works (or doesn't)...

Goognight.