I long for community. I tried finding it in my faith-based community, but as much as I try it's not working. I long for authentic connections-- anything less and I struggle to find the motivation to engage. Still, I try. And each time I do for the sake of my son, I get hurt time and again, and lately thanks to a series of jaw dropping events I've felt downright pummeled. I'm utterly thankful for my dear friends and the love my son knows through them; I just wish I also had a collective community he could turn to, a place at large where he belonged.
It took losing the home I fell in love with, it took this ache in my heart to see my love for this charming little village, red tractor, chain-link fence and all. Our home here will be smaller, it might be older, and most certainly it won't have the classic-clicker two-car garage, but it will be in a place where strangers stop to say hello, where we can plant flowers in the community garden, and where there is genuine kindness. Faith based or not, this little village is what community really is, in all the ways that matter.
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