It Takes Growing Your Village

Where is my village?  Why isn’t anyone showing up for me? What am I doing wrong? Am I a bad friend? Where is this village I’m supposed to be making? 

Have you ever felt that? Abandoned. Bitter. Where it feels like you’re pouring into every relationship you can, but getting nothing in return. You’re running ragged trying to make sure your people are watered and nourished, but all you feel is empty. 

Dear friend, we have all been there. Times where we feel abandoned by our village. But in these seasons remember sometimes when you are the one pouring, you have to wait for the right person to replenish your own soul. 

Let's hear from a member of our own Faithfully Gathered village. Meet Kiera.

In a recent season she could truly relate to feeling abandoned by her village. As a first time expectant mother she struggled with feeling lonely and isolated, hear her story of where she ended up finding new editions to her own village:

I was a first time expectant mother. As I got to know this new being, I got to know myself better. Part of that was reexamining my relationships. I worried that my husband and I weren’t surrounded by the right community to raise our family.

After countless prayers and confirmations from God, I listened to His voice. I started taking matters into my own hands. Making sure I was the one seeking out community and initiating time to see the loved ones I felt neglected by. It worked at first. But slowly the old feeling crept back in. I felt lost again. 

Fast forward to the baby’s arrival. Of course our close family came to help. Even some of our amazing friends, without kids mind you, beautifully showed up for us. But many of the people I intentionally poured into the last few years weren’t the ones who came to my aid in those first fragile months of motherhood. Some of our biggest support came from an unexpected place: a set of brand new friends.

This addition to our village came through our local parish. The first time we met our church friends, our Deacon’s wife introduced herself and brought us into a small room off the fellowship hall. We approached several young couples catching up and laughing at each other's recent trials and triumphs of parenthood. Their little ones running around with gleefully shrieks. My guard relaxed. My heart warmed. I released a breath I didn’t know I was holding for far too long.

We had just met our new village. The part that had felt like it was missing; fellow young, Christian parents. We were instantly welcomed. Something rarely found in our world so immediately, let alone authentically; it can feel disarming. But I leaned into their tender gaze and conversation. I truly could feel God in the room.

God was nudging us, as if to say, “You’re supposed to be here, trust me.” I was reminded of Matthew 18:20, “where two or three gather in my name, there am I with them” (NIV).

One of the other moms leaned in gently and asked, "and how are you, Mom?”

“Good,” I replied politely, as I shifted my three-month-old in my arms.“I know this can be a strange time, " she continued warmly but firmly. “You go from pregnancy where it’s all about Mom, then no one even asks about Mom. They just ask how the baby is doing.” I was deeply touched by her insistence in making sure I was okay.  

I was vindicated in this small moment. I wasn't meant to do this alone. I just needed to be patient for the right people. God was showing me that through this stranger’s kindness.

God reminded me we were meant to carry each other’s burdens (Galatians 6:2, NIV). And here was this kind stranger, soon-to-be friend, helping carry mine.

My husband and I felt like we belonged in this small group. We embraced their presence in our lives for what it truly was, a blessing. We leaned into these new friendships with timid eagerness. I am happy to report they have been nothing but encouraging ever since that first introduction. God showed me that my village hadn’t abandoned me, I just hadn’t met all of it! 

We have grown closer through various gatherings. We’ve had playdates, coffees after Mass, barbecues, moms’ nights out, even bible study groups. We have forged a bond around many tables. Working on our faith and raising our babies in the best ways we know how.

“They broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts, praising God…“ (Acts 2:46–47, NIV).

Our group has since grown, welcoming new parishioners and new babies into the world. We are all different, yet have something central in common; a space for God in our modern lives. 

In this little village, we don’t shy away from the vulnerable conversations. I see the compassion we hold for one another’s truths. Even when those truths don’t look like ours. We offer what help we can. We hold a sincere but honest mirror to each other. Saying things most loved ones don’t have the heart to.

Kiera's story serves as a reminder that our villages are allowed to change. Often they must shift and adapt in the seasons life throws us. Regardless if our villages have stood the test of time or are new to us, we must lean on them and they on us. We are better together and making time to gather keeps us together. In the age of social isolation and division, our villages offer something tried and true, authentic connection. They allow us to encourage yet challenge each other to strive for more.

“And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds, not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another…” (Hebrews 10:24–25, NIV).

It's something worth considering. Without judging, how can we encourage one another? Be truthful yet still welcoming. We may not have all the answers. But God shows us little victories each and every time our village gathers.