Extroverted introvert, they call it. The sort who can be perfectly content with lots and lots of alone and quiet time but will chat it up with no problem when the opportunity arises. I am so that and sometimes it really serves me well.  September was such a chock full month, full of driving and games and school and appointments.  My husband came home a couple weeks ago in the middle of the madness and I had dinner in the instant pot.  The sun was still out and it was unseasonably warm. He mentioned maaaaybe taking a walk, but fatigue was voting for sitting down instead.  I ran and grabbed shoes and dog leashes and convinced him we could squeeze in a short walk before dinner with the girls and dogs. 

We were rounding a corner, with girls and dogs, when we noticed a chicken coop in a side yard.  A woman and her neighbor were hauling some brush out into a flatbed trailer and all chicken heart eyes I gush, "Are those your hens?"  As if they would be anyone else's hens shacking up in her back yard.  This urban farmer matches my enthusiasm and says, "Yes!  Do you want to come see them?!?" 
Um, yes.  I did, in fact, want to see the chickens.  A lot.  

The girls and I handed dogs off to my husband and traipsed into the yard to see the small flock and we talked non stop.  Where do you live?  How long have you lived here?  Was your house near the fire?  How old are your kids?  We have a big party every summer! You should come!

The next week we got together and they brought us eggs.  Today we sat in my kitchen talking a blue streak while the girls got to know each other.  Amazingly they too hit it off immediately and had to be appeased with promises of another visit soon. 

It is hard to start fresh in another place.  Whether you do it once or do it every few years.  Building your tribe all over again from scratch is daunting. It takes a lot of fortitude to put yourself out there.  To be honest, the first two years we have spent here have been emotionally and physically taxing.  I have put off taking chances like these because it felt like one more hard thing that needed to happen and might not work anyway.  It doesn't always.  This is part of the package though.  This is how a community is built.  You can be bitter that you have to keep doing it or you can celebrate the beautiful people who come into your life.  I won't kid you – I have done both of those things.  

Tonight, I am celebrating. 

Call it a clan, call it a network, call it a tribe, call it a family: Whatevery you call it, whoever you are, you need one. – Jane Howard

Exactly halfway through the 1990's a young woman found herself transplanted to Texas from the midwestern state that had been home to her young and growing family for seven of nine years of married life.  She had a new baby.  Her husband had a new degree and a new job.  Together they also had three rambunctious little boys who had been born within 47mo of each other.  And an aging cat.  And a new puppy – because just what you need in such a situation is another incontinent, unpredictable creature or two added to the mix. She was working very hard to keep all her plates spinning but you could say there was some china breakage going on. 

Down the street there was another family of four, a few years older, who had befriended them. Their simply furnished, spacious home was positive, upbeat. It was the sort of place you could sit back and take a deep breath.  Unpretentious. Welcoming. Non-judgemental. 

Those little boys kept that momma on her toes….and on her knees.  Their dad worked long hours and there was a baby to care for, a puppy to housebreak, boxes to unpack.  So many boxes.  Things occasionally got the best of her.  

There was one particular day when one errant little man was scolded and sent inside much to this momma's embarassment. The neighbor mom down the street knew all her frustration without having to be told.  She had been there too.  Without elaborating or getting preachy she offered a few words that stuck:   

"You know, what helps most is trying to remember we are a team."  

This was the 90's. We had just begun seeing some offices hanging posters of sweeping landscapes with inspirational sayings like, "Together Each Achieves More" and "There is No I in Team"    There was no Pinterest yet and pithy slogans still made you stop and think.

Those little boys and the children who came along after them played basketball and football and later soccer every year, often with their dad coaching. Sports analogies were relatable.  Long after the sayings got overused and tired, one or another – often the momma and later the others – would exhort the rest by saying, "same team."  That became a code to remind everyone that we were not just a chaotic mass of competing goals and desires.  We were supposed to be playing on the same side, even when it didn't feel that way.  Let's be honest.  It doesn't always feel that way.  A mother can look at a naughty child, a husband can look at a wife, a brother can look at his siblings and any of them can begin to feel locked in battle of wills against instead of with those humans.  

It's been a lot of years since I was that young woman.  My plates spin a little better today, but I keep a broom and dustpan handy just in case.  I look at those boys all grown up with so much gratitude. I see the younger sisters and brothers who followed. I see a marriage that has been up and down and all over the map.  Somewhere along the line those cheesy sayings stuck.  No matter how frustrated we get at times there is a sense deep down that we are a team.  We have deeply held opinions and incredibly unique and different temperaments but we have a shared goal – to thrive and grow together. No matter how we have sometimes upset or disappointed each other, so far that goal has trumped the rest.

It is clear when I see older brothers pacing the sidelines.  You hear it when one mentions something another one said about a topic in question.  We read books and watch programs because one of us has insisted the others simply MUST.  Then we compare notes and debate endlessly.  There is shared applause when someone goes big – a wedding, a graduation, a relocation, a promotion.  There is hushed solidarity and earnest prayers over infertility, relationship woes, miscarriage, job or finance trouble.  And we have had all those things.  The victories are better together, however, and the valleys a little less lonely when you have someone willing to come up alongside and navigate them with you. 

Do we always perform ideally?  Are we perpetually good sports?  Not by a long shot.  It is at those times we have to dig deep though and remind ourselves we are not a collection of random individuals, fiercely protecting our own agendas.  We are a team, the best sort of team, and we need to act that way. Sooner or later we tend to come around.  We back down from unsustainable positions, we soothe over misunderstandings, we forgive.  It is hard, hard work.  To me though, this is winning.