Community? Nah, I've Got This. Or Not?

Like so many of my friends and even more of NWC's graduates

, I chose to attend a private Christian college intentionally for the Christ-centered environment. For decades, Northwestern's buzzword has been "community." There's no running from it. There's no hiding from it or avoiding it. It's quite literally everywhere.

I don't think 18-year-old Maddie realized just how much 24-year-old Maddie would one day cherish that gift of community. As an introvert, I shied away from college-organized events unless I was asked over and over and over again. Oftentimes, I would miss out on things because I had convinced myself that I wasn't actually welcome unless I was asked "just one more time." Eventually I figured out that that wasn't the way to go about seeking the community I so desired.

I eventually stepped so far out of my comfort zone, I couldn't even see the line with a telescope. I became active in campus ministry and invested intentional time in my--still to this day--deeply cherished friendships.

Graduation day was so bitter and so sweet in so many ways. You know, you work for four years of high school to get to college, and then you work for four years of college to get to adulthood. In no way did I feel ready to enter the workforce, nursing, or just plain ol' life without my parents' supervision. (Honestly, this is a dramatic take. Both my parents and Northwestern raised me up to be prepared.) I spent countless hours preparing for the career to which I believe God called me, and thankfully it just so happened to be one with a gigantic learning curve. But I had found the sweetest community I could have ever in a million years hoped for.

Life in a secular workplace was a strange transition. I was still on the college community high, and I didn't realize how desperately I craved tight-knit, Christ-centered relationships with people in, at the very least, the same time zone. Not only was I a new grad, baby nurse, first-time adult, but I was also navigating life independent from the constant, physical presence of my parents and everyone I knew. This insane transition took up so much of my attention. There's so much excitement that comes when you reach a goal, and for me, North Carolina was a goal. I formed a couple of really solid friendships with close proximity. I felt like this place could be my home, and it has been so wonderful to me.

But recently, I noticed something was missing. I've been here for close to two years now and have avoided the nagging feeling in my gut for months. I've had an abundance of support from my people at home and they will never understand just how much I love and value them. But they're not here. They can't sit on my couch and watch Schitts Creek with me or run over for ice cream and a long hug when I had a rough shift. I thank God every day for the phone calls that I can make, while still grieving their absence.

God was quietly knocking on the door of my heart, reminding me that He created us for community. That He will provide for me in those ways if I would just get over myself and my pride and follow His voice.

So I made a decision. I'm seeking out community in new ways, ways that aren't just handed out to me like they were at NWC. It's not easy, I'm almost always nervous, the groupchat with my mom and sister gets lit up with my anxieties. But you know what? It is always, always, always worth it. There might not be fruit from every effort, but I feel confident in the attempt. God's always showing up for me in the darkness.

And he always will.