I love my village.
Sometimes I struggle with having lived in the same community for over 20 years. Staying-put for so long presents a unique set of challenges.
Other times I love the history of living in long-term community.
Today was one of those days.
Community looked like a fellow band mom driving my son to an all-day event in Charlottesville. I am so grateful to those moms and dads who give us grace and offer my son rides during this season of fullness. We can’t do it alone.
It was walking downtown to try out a new hair salon that I pass by daily, and loving the process of walking and looking at my neighborhood through new eyes almost as much as I loved the cut.
Community was birthday parties and connecting over cupcakes.
It was making plans for the littles to spend the afternoon with their grandparents who live within walking distance so that Steve and I could attend our college son’s choral concert tomorrow.
Community was a knock on the door from my 10 year old son’s friend and his mom, inviting him to hang out at his favorite downtown haunt for dinner and beyond.
It’s connection. It’s something that I need so much practice doing that God hurls it at me several times a day. It’s a grace.
I am grateful.