Community is when I walk into Vivian’s school for orientation—feeling slightly overwhelmed on a new and larger campus—and immediately see the smile of a teacher whom I’ve known since I was a child, and I know my baby girl will be just fine. And so will this mama.
Community is when my retired childhood dance teacher opens her heart and her beautiful back patio as an oasis for younger mothers thirsty for wisdom and peace. Sorrows are comforted, and dreams are nurtured there.
Community is when a hurricane comes and hovers over your town for three days, leaving you landlocked with no access to resources. And people immediately people begin an outpouring of donations to help meet the gaping needs of complete strangers around them.
Community is when a dear friend surprises you with a gift you never even knew to ask for. It is when the church wraps the wounded and the hurting in its arms. It is where you can sit in the discofort of the unknown, but rest in the known. I may not know what tomorrow holds, but I know that these people, these hearts, will be beside mine until that fog lifts, the floodwaters subside, and a smile finds its way to my heart again.
This is community. We know it well here in Liberty. It is my heart’s hope to give this treasured community of mine a place to rest, to grow. I recently read a beautiful quote that captured my dreams for the dWELLing:
“All people need a place where their roots can grow deep and they always feel like they belong and have a loving refuge. And all people need a place that gives wings to their dreams, nurturing possibilities of who they might become.”
“The Lifegiving Home: Creating a Place of Belonging and Becoming” by Sarah Clarkson.
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