Being in Community

“Neighbors bring food with death, and flowers with sickness and little things in between.”

Scout, To Kill a Mockingbird

Growing up, whenever I needed to find my mother I checked the kitchen first. Feeding a family of six before microwaves and take-out options was a full time job. If she wasn’t cooking for us, she was cooking for a friend or a neighbor. I was fortunate to be raised on the tradition of being a neighbor. And now I feel super lucky to live in a neighborhood of true neighbors.

Last month, at the same time as the calendar was slated for holiday events, folks around me were experiencing their own major events: a baby was born, a spouse died, a friend had major surgery. I could hear the narrator from the movie version of To Kill a Mockingbird saying the quote above in his southern drawl. And I pulled out an old casserole recipe of my mother’s.(Who makes casseroles anymore?)

It’s a bit of whiplash to witness the joy of a tiny newborn and then sit with someone who is experiencing the deepest grief of their life. Birth and death and everything in between bring flashes of memories: your personal ones, and the ones you have shared with that friend over the years.Time stands still for a nanosecond. It’s not a nanosecond I want to miss.

That casserole likely had too much butter and cream in it. But I needed to make it as much as people needed to eat in a crisis. I needed to feel connected as much as they needed to be nourished. When the world is spinning too fast or the news is too overwhelming, being in community can be grounding.

Especially now, especially here.

Thank you for being part of this community.

J

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