Every few months our church launches new small groups. There are hundreds and hundreds to choose from and I always look forward to finding a group and meeting new people. I have had some semesters where I find an awesome group of women who really help to stretch and grow me spiritually. I have had some semesters where things are OKAY, but I am relieved to see it end so I can find a new group!
I had almost resigned myself to the fact that I wasn’t going to be able to join a small group this time around. With our hectic schedule, daytime groups were almost completely off the table, and since Jason has school 2 nights/week and I work one night, I hated to miss another evening with the family. At the last minute I located a playgroup that I thought I would try out. I was actually pretty excited, even though I knew we wouldn’t be able to get TOO much done with a room full of kids, it is always good to fellowship with other moms. I enjoy sharing joys and trials with other women. I enjoy praying for them and asking for prayer with what is going on in our lives.
But most of all I enjoy being REAL. As a matter of fact, I would go so far to say I don’t have time to be anything but real. The way I see it, most of us spend a large part of our day making nice-nice and pretending life is peachy keen, whether we’re talking to other moms in the park or checking out at the grocery store. If I am going to really make friends, I want to be able to be honest, even when it’s not pretty. I want to be able to cry and laugh, even (sometimes especially) when the laughter is irreverent and inappropriate.
So when I got to the small group and realized this was a group of women who were all already friends, I was disappointed. When I realized they were going to spend a ridiculous amount of time talking about where they buy their children’s clothing, I was disappointed (and bored). When nobody really asked me anything about myself or my family as I blended into the background for over an hour, I knew I was never coming back.
A part of me wondered if no one knew quite what to do with me and my Asian child. I didn’t go into the situation thinking anything about that, and I don’t walk around with a chip on my shoulder thinking that everyone notices us. I usually don’t think twice about it. But it is very hard for me not to be able to participate in a group. I can talk to anyone, even people I don’t particularly like. So I wonder what it was.
Our obvious adoption that no one wanted to address so they chose to ignore us completely?
My complete dis-interest in smocked clothes, john-johns, and enormous hairbows?
I don’t know. But I was disappointed. However, I am thankful that I do have friends that I can call and talk about our struggles with bonding and attachment. I love that I have friends who I know will get a kick out of a good poop story. I am grateful that I have people who know me well enough to know I can be sarcastic and flippant, but that I adore my family beyond belief and would walk through fire for them….no matter what I say when I am frustrated and tired.
And that is going to have to be good enough for me this time around.