Tides In, Tides Out
Staying Rooted in a Transient Hometown
Growing up near a beach, some of my earliest memories were of being mesmerized by the grooves, ripples, and tidemarks the ocean water had on the beach… the way the tides washed away sand castles, or (when they washed out) left behind tidemarks, and blue crabs, and–every once in awhile–sunglasses from someone surprised by a wave.
Early and often, I learned that tides take things away–and tides bring them back, too.
Much of my adult life has been in a community hundreds of miles from a beach–in a rural college town that (although landlocked) functions much like those beachfront tides. Each year, hundreds of people–17 year old freshmen and 70 year old college professors–move into and out of our town; the faces I see in our congregation, in our coffee shops, in our barber shops and restaurants–change each year, because the tides are changing.
This isn’t unique to me, either. In our economy as a whole, it’s increasingly common for people to move away from their hometowns in search of other opportunities… the tide carries them out, and others in. Those of us who stay behind–seeing loved ones come and go–have to learn how to cope on the shoreline, embracing what God brings our way, and releasing those God has called our way.
Here are a few things I’ve learned from watching the tides come in and go out:
You can love the same place for different reasons
I grew to love my current town because of late-night conversations, rich friendships, and a church community in which the Gospel is really good news. I still have all those things; but the faces, names, and rhythms have changed. Almost everyone I came into college with has moved onto some other opportunity–but as I’ve stayed here, I’ve come to love new people, different places, and different routines.
Staying (sometimes) isn’t the same as stagnating
There’s a stigma associated with staying. If you stay in a town many others have left, people may assume you just haven’t been checking out your options. Sometimes, that’ll be true (and you’re just staying put because of inertia, when you know you need to move somewhere else). Other times, though, we avoid staying because we don’t want to be perceived as stagnant. It’s helpful to remember when we chase others’ opinions like this that we aren’t accountable to appear like we’re growing–we’re accountable to actually grow.
Some of the most important people in your life may not be there yet. ;)
When everyone’s new to a place (like in college, or trade school–as people come together for the first time), it seems like friendships form so easily… but when you’ve stayed for a while, it can be easy to close your social loops… to think, “I have all the friends I need.” But the astonishing thing is: some of the most important people in your life may be people you haven’t met yet. As the tide comes in, you have the opportunity to meet new people, and (if you’re open), you may be surprised at how many people you can meet that have a great capacity for friendship, and would add to your life in ways you’d never experience if you didn’t make space in your calendar (and your home) for them. Which brings me to my next (and final) observation…
Your home can have a gravitational pull
If you stay in a place for long enough, you’ll get beyond seeking a hospitable space, and start to enter a stage where you can create a place where people convene to share stories, express need, and find a “home” where they can process and belong without judgment. This doesn’t take special knowledge, or fancy cooking, or a reflex of hospitality–it takes a willingness to consistently invite others into your home, even if it’s for oreos and milk (or out to lunch or coffee, if that feels like a safer first step), and a capacity for following up and being curious and caring about their longings and losses.
I’m convinced it’s often true–especially in a transient place–that there’s power in a person staying in one place for a long time, and embracing the call to neighboring that can only come when we’re committed to sustainable curiosity–whether the tide’s in or out.
Ethan Linder serves currently as the Pastor of Discipleship and Connections at College Wesleyan Church in Marion, IN. Previously, he has also lead CWC’s College and Young Adult Ministries, where many of you readers may recognize his wise, kind words from.
Ethan’s writings inspire moments of deep reflection and peace. I know they do for me, and I hope they do for you too (— Delaney (: )