HOW DO YOU MEASURE A YEAR?

525,600 minutes

525,000 moments, so dear

525,600 minutes

How do you measure, measure a year?

Jonathan Larson measures a year…in daylights, in sunsets, in midnights, in cups of coffee. In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife…how do you measure a year in the life?

A year in San Antonio is measured in sunshine, flip flops, in guacamole and dust.  In Mapquest, fish tacos, texts, and airline tickets.  (Lots and lots of airline tickets.)

In calibrating chlorine and deveining shrimp.

In mourning losses and celebrating newness.

525,600 minutes.  And just as many new faces.

It was a year of tearful farewells, but far more tenuous hellos.  New faces and names.  Dozens and dozens of introductions.  My mind reels.  I’ve always prided myself in being good with names and faces (not as good as my brother, but good.)  I was mistaken.  So many faces and names and places.  It’s a matching game and I don’t think I’m winning.

The last time I was the new kid in town, I was coming to the St. Louis area as a graduate student.  Fellow students made instant connections.  With time, my circle grew – theatre friends, work friends, church friends; fellow parents and neighbors.  My world was rich with faces.

My world in San Antonio is still rich with faces, but suddenly most are unfamiliar.  It’s hard being the new kid in town.  How do you find your people?

Before leaving St. Louis, while standing in the middle of the grocery store aisle, a friend asked how I was going to meet people when I didn’t have kids in school.  No PTOs or Mother’s Clubs.  No play groups or extra-curricular practices.  Her question surprised me.  I hadn’t considered that perspective.  I made friends before I had children, surely I could do it again.  And I’m doing it…but it hasn’t been easy.

Tim and I are still trying to find a church family.  Our neighbors are rarely seen.  We’ve made a few connections amongst Tim’s colleagues, but how else?

An unexpected invitation led me to the Newcomers of San Antonio organization.  It has been an incredible gift.  The organization is comprised of men and women, like Tim and I, who have been transplanted.  They too are floundering, finding their way in a new city.  Through the organization, we have been to parties, lunches, and coffees.

We fumble through introductions and small talk, trying to find common ground….and we are.  The connections are often tenuous, but the kindness and the smiles are real.  We are finding common denominators, like empty-nesting and Midwestern roots.  These people, like Tim and I, are trying to make connections, trying to fill the void created by people left behind.

It's time now to sing out, though the story never ends.  Let's celebrate, remember a year in the life of friends. 

Friends – old and new.  Keeping in touch with the old, cultivating the new.  It is this amazing kaleidoscope of faces that enriches our lives and makes every year extraordinary.