When Steve was in the hospital, one of the things I was most grateful for was the ability to be by his side every single day. I slept there every night, and thanks to my parents, who cared for the kids, I never had to choose between being with my husband and making sure our children were safe.
And it didn’t stop there—our friends showed up in powerful, practical ways. They took the kids to the park, the zoo, Chuck E. Cheese—anywhere to give them joy and to give us peace of mind. I can’t express how deeply thankful we are for our community.
Recently, I came across a post where a mom said, “I’ve seen the village, and I don’t want it raising my children.” And while I understand the sentiment—sometimes we’ve been surrounded by toxic or harmful people—I want to lovingly push back.
We get to choose our village.
If the one you inherited isn’t healthy, you can build a new one. You can surround yourself with people who love your kids, who cheer for your marriage, who show up in the hard times and celebrate in the good ones.
But here’s the thing—building a village takes intentionality.
If you're having a hard time finding community, start by plugging into your local church. Join a small group. Go to that women's night or men's gathering. If you have little kids, take the time to chat with other parents at birthday parties or school drop-off. If you don’t have kids, invite a neighbor over for coffee. Be the one who initiates. Show up for others. Reach out when you’d rather stay in.
Be the community you long for.
It might feel awkward at first. Vulnerable. Slow. But love grows in consistency. Over time, those little check-ins and casual connections can turn into something meaningful—people who will stand with you in your hardest moments and cheer you on in your best.
We weren’t meant to do life alone.
God designed us to live in community. To carry one another’s burdens. To be the hands and feet of Christ when someone is too tired to stand on their own.
When I think back on those hospital days, I don’t just remember the fear or the fatigue—I remember the grace. The meals. The hugs. The people who stepped in without being asked.
We saw the village.
And we’re forever grateful for the way they carried us.
Galatians 6:2 (NIV)
"Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ."
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