Reinvention

November 28, 2017

For someone who was raised in the suburbs, they feel like an alien landscape to me now. Once upon a time, the suburbs were to me like Br’er Rabbit’s briar patch, a place so familiar and comfortable that no matter how thick the thorns, it was still home. That was a long time ago. Today, I drove into the eastern suburbs of Buffalo, not exactly the priciest real estate in the country, but still, it was like entering a different world. The lawns were manicured, the houses stately, the shops neat and tidy like a Hallmark movie set. It was all very pretty, but it wasn’t my world. My world consists of mostly old houses, many on the edge of run down. The lawns may be mowed, but there’s precious little landscaping. There are a couple stately homes in the village, but at best they would look a bit sub-standard if they sat where I drove today.

There are five mobile home parks within a five mile radius. I’m talking a bit upscale here; most people would call them trailer courts; in short, there’s a lot of hardscrabble here. It’s not that we don’t have some nice homes, it’s just that they’re not concentrated here like they are in that suburb. And of course, the economic disparity is not any indicator of a happiness disparity. There is as much selfishness, sadness, heartache, and loneliness in the suburbs as here in the country; it’s just that they are able to mask it a bit better.

Having lived in small villages for most of my life, I think I can say I know and understand them, although I’m not sure how much I actually fit in. Sometimes I still feel like an outsider, and I suspect that those born and raised here could pick me out of a crowd as not being quite “one of us.” On the other hand, I know I wouldn’t fit in the suburbs any more. I don’t know how things operate there. 

Take the church, for example. I understand how things work in a small village church. It’s where I’ve spent the bulk of my ministry years. God has blessed us with a measure of success, so that although we’re in a small village, our attendance and membership for most of our time here has outstripped many of the suburban and city churches. I used to think I knew how to grow a church, but a few years ago when things took a nosedive, I re-evaluated. I’m not sure I know how to grow a church anymore, and I am certain I don’t know how to do it in a suburban or urban setting. Which leads me to my point of gratitude tonight. I am thankful to have had the years I’ve been given here in this small village. God has brought some wonderful people into my life, and allowed me to grow deep in friendships. And now that I’m retired, I’ve been given the privilege of serving in a small city church; so I’m still learning. That’s good. Too much retirement is not always a good thing; you can get lazy and go stale. I’m having to reinvent myself, which is good. Maybe the new me will be better than the old me. One can only hope.