Living Together

A few posts back I mentioned that a woman named Tara Harrison and her one-year-old son Oni have come to live with us. As two interesting weeks have now passed, I'd like to offer some reflections. Initially, lover of drama that I am, I wanted to offer a sort of blow-by-blow (I mean that, um... figuratively, of course) description of our experience so far, but I feel the need to be sensitive to all four of the other members of my household, even though none of them are likely to ever see what I write, as least not for quite some time. So I'll try to talk somewhat more abstractly, while hopefully holding folks' interest.

I'm particularly interested in the idea of mergers of family units in the American cultural context, and how it might differ from similar endeavors in more "community-oriented" societies. First of all, how likely would it be for an arrangement like ours (a mother and toddler child moving into the house of a family comprised of a man, woman, and one slightly older child) to be made in an Arabic country? Or in China? I can only guess, but I think that it might be more common if the newcomers were related in some fashion by blood, and much less common if there were virtually no prior relationship at all.

Actually, Tara and Oni have moved in at least partly in order to provide some ongoing childcare services for us, and it might not be that uncommon in those other societies to have some sort of live-in help. But we have, from the outset, envisioned something a little more communal and familial.

Americans who are not (hint: like me) from the class of extreme wealth are a little ambivalent about the idea of "servants" or "help". There is the stereotype of the blue-blood matriarch who murmurs through barely parted lips, some disdainful comment about conducting any sort of personal relationship with "the help". There is a clear and firm division: we are the employers, they are the ones who do what we ask. Wealthy people are not servants in homes, and lower-income people do not employ servants in their homes. But what if there isn't such a clear class distinction between the holders of each role? Obviously, one half has a little "extra" money and the other half is in a state of more acute "need"-- or am I already betraying an American assumption that no one would choose to live with another family unless they were in dire circumstances?

I can't help but think of the phrase repeated many times in the bible, "the widow and the fatherless". It seems that a single mother is vulnerable in so many ways. She often struggles continually for honor, for basic physical safety for her child, for community, for any sort of sense that she "has a life". And of course, any family struggles, and for similar things.

After a couple has lived together for five years, and with a child for two years, the negotiation of the details of household life can become like a background activity that is so constant that (at times) you forget it's happening. Or to put it another way, the things that are being negotiated are so nuanced, and your confidence in running your household is strong enough, that you can forget that you will be back at "square one" if you bring in new people, especially an adult, and most especially an adult who is a parent. What time do we all go to bed? What do we eat? Where do we eat? When do we eat? What will be the role of the television? How many lights should be kept on? And on and on and on.

I personally struggle with the idea of "purpose" when it comes to groups in community. What are we trying to *do*? And when do we want to have it done by? What are the constraints on our methods for doing it? I like to think that although all of us have misshapen hearts, we are determined to persevere through to a consensus on these questions, one foot after the next, one day after the next, one bedtime after the next.

Lord, help us.