I am prompted to topics for my columns in various ways. Some come from the things I read in magazines or books or see on TV; some, like this one, come from my own experience.
For years, I have belonged to two study groups – one at my temple on Saturday mornings and another that is ecumenical and educational in nature. Neither is exclusive; new members are welcome. Some people try us out, find us not their cup of tea, and leave; but if they stay, it is usually for a long time.
During several weeks of recent illness, I have attended neither, but I’m back now. Meanwhile, a new retired man named Joe has joined us. He has been faithful in attendance, and he participates in the discussions, but getting over a sickness had made it difficult for me to get to know him as quickly as I normally do with newcomers.
Last week he asked me if there was a group for men in the temple. I said I didn’t know of one, but after thinking about it throughout the week, I looked in the temple directory and made a list of the older men whom I thought he could approach. During this process I realized that I know nothing about this man – where he came from, what he had done for a living, what his interests are. So I added those tidbits about the men on the list I was preparing.
Suddenly, I became aware that I’ve never had to seek a place for myself! Lexington has been my home all my life, except for a few years after World War II when we lived in Cleveland, my husband’s hometown. His friends were already there to welcome me, and when we returned to Lexington, we were welcomed by my friends. We belonged.
As new people entered our sphere, we made room for them, but for the most part our friends were those we had always had. This was after the war, and the new friends we made often ended up not staying here, so I fairly quickly decided that new friends would be transient in my life, not friends for the long haul, so why bother!
One fairly new woman in both my study groups often mentions that she only knew about the groups because of my hospitality. When she tells people this, I am embarrassed because it seemed so much to her and it meant almost nothing to me – no big deal!
I was usually nice to newcomers in a limited way, I realized. I made an effort to know their names and something about them, but having never been one, I never knew how important it was to strangers to be welcomed in such a manner. I am ashamed that I was not more open.
So, in my limited way, I gave Joe what information he sought and only in that process did I come to think about how difficult it must be to create a new life and a new place for oneself – especially later in life, when having something to offer requires more effort. When people complained that Lexington appeared to them to be a cold, unwelcoming place, I didn’t know what they were talking about. I know now! cc