It’s a remarkable thing to have a community, like a big extended family full of people who wear you out and fill you up, annoy you and have your back. They hold you with love, acceptance and the perseverance to work through the myriad of things that can be relationally difficult. Coming from a tiny family, just me, my parents and my grandparents who were far away, the gift of community has been profoundly wondrous, occasionally perplexing and sometimes exhausting. But it’s always been worth it. I think the hardest thing about it has been the lesson that things change, and the members of that intimate circle shift in availability. Change is a natural part of life.

While we met with Jason and Linda and the group that formed around them, we met every week on Fridays. We called ourselves the Friday Friends, and determined that our overarching goal was to be family to each other. Different people came almost every week. There were people who were from our church but there were others who Jason had usually met in some way. It may sound trite, but he really was magnetic, and he had a huge heart. Jason was an actor who worked for a non-profit organization focused on providing affordable housing to struggling families. He was great at it, but he always longed for the stage. His love for his wife and daughter meant he needed to spend evenings at home, so he let that go for a while.

Every year we’d all chip in and rent a big house on one of the local islands. We’d hang out and play games, go to the beach, and take long walks. We’d also gather to share the real stuff that was going on in our lives, pray for each other and simply be with each other in hard times. Jason would make traditional Indian chai in the morning. Linda had taught him how, and she’d spent a couple years teaching music in India, so she knew how to make the real stuff. Waking up in a house with so many people in it, I’d be a little overwhelmed until I’d stand next to Jason while he served up the chai. Somehow then I knew I was safe. He was the first man I’d ever felt safe with, besides Keith.

His protective brother-ness helped me out at church, too. We’d always sit in the row in front of the Francai (Francis, but plural), and I knew that with Keith next to me and Jason behind me, nothing was going to hurt me. I suppose that even included God, since I was quite afraid of him. Jason was spiritually gifted in remarkable ways, and since he was okay with me it seemed like he created some kind of bridge that I could stand on and be near God and not be destroyed.

There was a profound sweetness about that time with them, even though I was extraordinarily desperate in other ways. We always knew that Jason and Linda would leave eventually, but we thought they’d end up going back to India and having occasional furloughs back with us. I tried not to think about it, which I think was the best thing to do (or not do). The sharing of one’s heart naturally implies that it will be broken. The only way to prevent this is to live without giving one’s heart away, and that’s no life at all.