Our neighborhood was shaken by a loss of a fellow mom nearly 7 months ago. It was probably one of the most difficult things I have ever been a part of. Not just because she was a friend of mine, lived two doors down and our kids played together all the time – but because it was (and still is) one of the most tragic things I’ve seen a family deal with.
But in the midst of it all, something small but good has happened that signifies HOPE. Our neighborhood has banded together.
People invite the father and two small kids over for dinner multiple times a week.
Neighbors set up a weekend playdate schedule so the dad and kids would have something planned to do every Saturday morning.
People shoveled walkways. Helped repair swingsets. Brought trash cans back up the driveway.
And much more.
It made my husband, who doesn’t typically show much emotion, cry as he told someone “I now know that if something ever happened to me, this neighborhood would help take care of my wife and kids.”
We are grateful to have stumbled upon this village that is now a part of our intertwined lives over the past 4 years since we moved here. But the sense of hope that I’ve now seen goes much further than that, and I’m grateful to witness it.