Don’t Go It Alone

Community success depends on me and my success depends on community

After 35 years in the same community and the same house, my husband and I have decided we need to relocate to be nearer to our family. It’s been a big decision coming together slowly.

“Just because you stay in the same place, doesn’t mean things won’t change,” I had said as we considered the decision. I was thinking about tasks that have grown more difficult as we grow older and the obstacles that make it hard to support family (and to be supported by them) when they live hundreds of miles away.

A Moving Story

And so, a few months ago, the deciding balance tipped toward an out of state move to be closer to our children and grandchildren. I feel confident that it is the right decision, but that doesn’t make it easy. There’s the sheer quantity of possessions that accumulate over all those decades. Closets, garage, attic and more! Every box represents a potential heartwarming or grief inducing memory. Baby pictures, a Mother’s Day Card, an old medicine bottle, a funeral announcement. Packing has reminded me that simply living in the boring routine of the present brings a kind of welcome comfort that I’m momentarily denied.

Boxing up accumulated possessions generates an intense nostalgia that would be a bit unsettling no matter what, but it is more intensified by the state of the world outside my home. It’s not just our household that feels unstable right now. The political landscape draws my attention to the needs of neighbors and community members whose security is far more threatened than my own.

Going to church, for most of my life, has been like a kitchen table of welcome in an “each one for themselves” kind of world. But lately I’ve heard too many churches debating the question “Who is my neighbor?” A question Jesus answered years ago in the broadest of terms, indicating that the answer is centered more on giving and showing mercy than geographical location or cultural background.

And so, with my house topsy turvy, the world enmeshed in argument, and the church grappling to fully live out faith in troubled times, it’s tempting to feel overwhelmed by gloom and isolation.

Loneliness and Despair

Pondering the situation, my eyes caught sight of a small picture still hanging in my living room. I purchased the print many years ago at The Boston Museum of Fine Arts. Winslow Homer’s oil painting Fog Warning features a fisherman in a small dory at dusk. He is rowing on a restless ocean, surrounded by white crested waves in undulating deep shadowed water.

The small boat is carrying two large halibut, the harvest of a successful day. But the joy of his achievement is mingled with life threatening risk. Homer centers the resolute fisherman against an evening sky split between pastel sunset and a foreboding fog bank. The fisherman’s face is locked on a distant ship. After a day of fishing he knows that he must return to the ship before darkness obscures his view and he is lost.

When I saw this painting in the museum, I glanced at the placard next to the display. Under the title the museum had summarized the message of the scene, “The fisherman’s greatest battle is against the enemy of loneliness and despair.”

The fisherman is alone, but he knows better than to stay alone. He is looking toward the only sanctuary able to sustain him. He has accomplished a successful achievement, the large catch of fish. But he can’t afford to congratulate himself on his skill. His task is not finished.

Neither can he afford to give in to despair and loneliness. His only hope is to keep his eyes on the mother ship and make connection to it a top priority.

Refuge in Community

The painting reminds me that no matter the strength of my conviction, or my commitment to working hard, my efforts cannot succeed unless I remember that they are part of a larger context, that they are tied to something greater.

Homer’s fisherman has spent his day using his own strength to find and catch the fish that his livelihood demands. But his connection to the larger ship and his dependance on the ship’s crew is equally essential for his survival.

Like him, I depend on others to survive. No matter how difficult the circumstances, like the fisherman, I must continue to battle loneliness and despair. I am grateful for friends that encourage and support me, for family that need me as I need them, and for a place of worship that lifts my eyes to see beyond myself to something greater.

This message particularly resonates for those of us that seek to fully live our faith in ordinary ways on ordinary days. When even the best of friends let us down, God’s mercy reaches into the most obscure darkness with words of comfort. Jesus reminded his followers of this mercy with the words, “I have told you all this so that you may have peace in me. Here on earth, you will have many trials and sorrows. But take heart, because I have overcome the world.”

Homer called his painting Fog Warning. May we also be warned against the fog of distrust and isolation and may we seek and offer refuge in community.