In the Shelter of Each Other
Among the memories I treasure most are the years my family and I lived in England. Our children were young, a third daughter born just before we returned home, and we were embarking on an adventure we could not yet see all that clearly. We knew the rigors of graduate school would be daunting; we expected to live simply and without many material privileges or comforts; and we hoped for a circle of friends, a community that would help us adapt to a new way of life so far from home and family. Those years and many of the details of our Oxford home are described more fully in “Banbury Road,” another of the chapters in this book. [Finding Home by Julie K. Aageson. See acknowledgement below.]
The years in England were highlighted by the many ways a wide swath of people became intricately woven into our lives. It was an in-between time, a bridge between one world and another. And in that particularly formative period of our lives, a heightened awareness of “in-between” and “not yet” meant we needed each other’s care more than ever. English friends whose seemingly more settled lives made us envious opened their hearts and shared their homes, many becoming lifelong friends. In the university community people came and went with painful regularity and through it all we discovered shelter, not only in the arms of our small family, but in the embrace of so many others. We found home in one another.
Our forebears—our ancestors—no doubt experienced something similar as they emigrated from one land to another to make a new home. Whether life in the old country was without a future, family circumstances painful, or the lure of the new world a talisman of hope and promise—realistic or not, they came knowing it wouldn’t be easy, that hardships would challenge every hard-fought gain, that loneliness would sometimes be unbearable. On remote prairie homesteads and in hard-scrabble depression-era towns, they worked to create a new life, begin families, and build homes, finding shelter in one another, welcoming and supporting each other through difficult times.
For many years my sisters and I have taken time away from our spouses and homes to travel together. At first it was to help us cope with the circumstances of our aging parents and their difficult end-of-life challenges. After their deaths, we traveled to Scandinavia where we explored places new and old, visiting family along the way. But yearly short jaunts with my sisters have been simply for the pleasure and necessity of spending time together. Of course, there are a thousand things to share—who has known us as long as a sibling? But mostly we gather to be in each other’s good company, to find shelter in each other, to find home together. Neighbors and friends and colleagues also have been part of regular gatherings, sharing similar interests, helping one another cope with frightening medical diagnoses, challenging life circumstances, parenting teenagers into adulthood, and so much more. We find shelter in one another, wings to help us fly, and nets to catch our sometimes-sagging spirits.
When I reread old journals or occasionally visit with longtime friends, I’m reminded of the fact that there has never been a time without worry, agonizing angst, or anxiety of one kind or another. Writing today, we are living through a political crisis that threatens the fabric of our democracy.‘ Many are justifiably fearful that the rule of law has been undermined, that corruption has seeped into the souls of too many in positions of power, and that the American experiment in democracy so respected around the world may not be able to regain balance and authority.
I share these worries with many and on especially bad days we hold one other in a circle of companionship and camaraderie, providing shelter for each other. Some days it feels as if we live in the flimsy houses of the three little pigs with a band of wolves at the door ready to burn them all down. We need to make a strong home together, not with straw or sticks, maybe not even with bricks. The home we share on this planet is in dire need of ecological balance and care. Antipathy in our own land has been used to divide and set us against each other, not only here but around the world. There may be no more important task before us than relearning what it means to belong to one another, to share a common home, to think communally and globally, for the common good and for the sake of the world.
African cultures have a word for this: Ubuntu. It means that we live in the shelter of each other. It means that I am because we are. It means that we are because Christ is. It means we do life together! It is in the shelter of each other that we find a common home. It doesn’t take long to discover that “going it alone” is not a good way to live. We need one another. We do indeed do life together!
1. The tenure of Donald Trump as president of the United States that began in 2016 was fraught with crises.
Reflection
It is in the shelter of each other that we find a common home, . . . going it alone is not a good way to live. We need one another because we do indeed do life together!
• Name some places where you are especially aware of being cared for by others.
• Describe an experience of community where you have felt the shelter of others.
• What keeps you going when worry and anxiety seem to threaten daily life?
• Do you agree that there may be no more important task before us than relearning what it means to belong to one another, to share a common home, to think communally and globally, for the common good and the sake of the world?
Taken from Finding Home. Copyright 2020 by Julie K. Aageson. All rights reserved. Used with permission of the author.