Last night I attended a school event with one of my kids, hosted in the large backyard of one of the families. About 40 adults were there, and I was looking forward to finally going to a social event where I could meet people.
As soon as we arrived, my daughter ran off with her friends. I looked around and recognized only one person, someone who I had briefly talked to only a couple of times. But she was with a group of women and I didn’t want to intrude. In fact, everyone was with a group of friends.
So I positioned myself in a central area. I fought the urge to take out my phone, because I knew that would put up a wall around me. So I just stood there, leaning against a pillar, alone. I worked hard to put a pleasant look on my face, when internally I was feeling awkward and anxious.
I don’t consider myself shy, but I’m not extroverted enough to have the courage to approach a group of strangers at a party. I looked around for any other woman who was by herself, because I would have been brave enough to talk to her. But there were none. I guess I was hoping that someone would recognize me as new and come up and introduce herself. No one did.
I clasped my hands behind my back as I stood there for an hour by myself. I thought about my community in Tanzania and how I could be at an event with 40 people and easily know everyone there. I remembered being seen, being known, and I fought back tears.
Later that evening, the one woman I recognized came over to me and we had a nice chat. She was very kind, and talking to her filled me with some relief. And I found the opportunity to introduce myself to one more. I came home exhausted from holding in so much tension.
I told myself that in Tanzania, I was the kind of person who would always look out for the new person, because it’s much easier to do the introducing when you are the oldie instead of the newbie. But then I had to check myself: Did I always look out for the new person? Or were there plenty of times when I was so wrapped up in my friendships that I could have overlooked the woman standing alone? I’m certain there were times that I did.
So last night, I pushed back against the self-pity and told myself that I was going to remember how this moment felt. I know that I’m not always going to be new. So from now on, I’m going to make a more conscious effort to look for the new person, the standing-alone person.
Will you join me?
Heather
Amy, I have so been this woman in the room…on my introverted nights, I walk away wilting and on my extroverted nights, I wonder if any connections stuck. Thanks for your words. I will join you.
Chris Sparks
Yes I will. Where I live and surrounding small towns it is more common than holding a door open for another that no one is left out. Small East Texas town, we feel we need to know all in our community and involve them. It is especially evident at Churches and I’m in AA and we are taught from day one that if a new person is not approached and brought in we may lose them forever.
Dave
In a like fashion, if a visitor to a church is not approached and made to feel welcome, they will likely not be seen again.
Crystal C
I remember this feeling so vividly when I returned from Tanzania, but it was in the lobby after church in a church that I had gone to as a college student and who was now letting me use their missions house next door. Standing by a pillar watching people who used to be my small group leaders look right past me or say “it’s nice to meet you” as they passed by, without really meeting me and definitely not remembering the 4 years we’d spent together… or everyone so excited to see their friends that they couldn’t see the lonely lost missionary girl standing in the middle of the room. Thanks for the reminder to reach out – sometimes it feels so nice to “be known” and lose sight of the feelings I experienced over those six months (unfortunately I was never really welcomed in, so I stuck it out while I was in the missions house then moved on…) but I want to be more intentional about watching out foe the lost, or the lonely, or the new…
Meg
Oh Amy, this is my heart – my life. When I have been in these situations and counting the minutes until I can leave, it always leaves a bit of a scar. If it is around other Christians I can become critical and judgmental in my heart. So often when this has happened, like with you, the Holy Spirit will kindly say, “You too have been like this toward other women. You have refused to obey me but stayed in your comfort zone and as a result, other women have left church, a Bible Study, a social event, with a broken heart.” Ouch. So thankful for a God of 2nd chances.