This is the village

While waiting in line to grab some potlucked lunch at homeschool community, my 11 month old baby fast asleep on my shoulder, one of my mom friends offered to hold her. So I carefully place her on my friend’s shoulder where she stayed asleep and got my lunch. I sat and enjoyed my meal, then took the baby back so my friend could eat. (Shockingly, she stayed asleep with all of the passing back and forth!) A grandmother, who was there with her daughter and grandchildren for the day, warmly smiled as she took in everyone buzzing about for our communal lunch. I’d love to know what she was thinking…

Another one of the veteran moms was rocking the 5 month old baby of a new mom, so she could also eat. After lunch (and before the afternoon session) we talked about how good all of the salads and soups were that everyone brought. Maybe we should make a community cookbook? We mused. I then set up my laptop so that one of my daughter’s friends, who was home sick, could watch the class on Zoom.

After school I went to the kitchen to grab the glass bowl I had brought my jello salad in, expecting it to be caked in whipped topping. Instead, I saw someone had washed it for me. Around the corner came one of my fave moms who reminded me to stop by her house any morning next week for a coffee date and to let our kids do their memory work together. I made a mental note to bring a lunch that day; last time we got together for a “coffee date” it lasted all day.

This is what real community can truly look like. It’s not perfect — none of us live near each other as many of us drive up to an hour to spend the day together. We didn’t accidentally end up together, but intentionally sought it out. We had to want community bad enough to be willing to make it work, even when it’s not easy.

And I think that’s ultimately why we’re thriving as a community. Shared values were the draw, but commitment is the glue.