I was sick as a dog and lonely as heck.
I had one friend in my new town and looking back, she was my saving grace. Katie took it upon herself to invite us and a different family from church over for lunch every Sunday. Sometimes we clicked with the people we were breaking bread with and other times the awkwardness was so painful I would make the excuse of needing a nap so we could bolt. Regardless of whether or not the chemistry over (the best) potato soup and tuna sandwiches was good or not, Katie was faithful and she kept right on inviting people for us to meet.
She has a gift when it comes to connecting people to a village.
Fast forward 6 months and my baby boy had been born. Unfortunately the kid was not a boob man and I could not get him to latch on and eat to save either of our lives.
Half crazed with anxiety and lack of sleep, I prayed. “I need help God. Just send someone to help me. Pleeease!”
I kid you not, 10 minutes later there was a knock at my door. Puffy-eyed and half dressed I dragged myself to answer it. Standing there with a bag of baby clothes in her arms was a woman who had a baby 3 weeks older than mine.
“You! You breastfeed! Help me!” I manage to articulate cave woman style as I grabbed her arm and dragged her into my house.
We instantly bonded over nipples and nursing. She invited me over to nurse on her couch the next day so she could support me further . . . so I did.
From there our friendship evolved into Thursday night pizza nights and the rest is history.
That woman is now my sister friend, Anita, and we are a permanent fixture in each other’s villages and have been for nearly 10 years.
Just last month I walked with my dear friend Twyla, confessing wrongs that I had committed and the hardships that these wrongs had caused for myself and others. She offered me no advice as she listened to my tale of heartbreak and sadness. When I was don’t there was a moment of silence before she opened her mouth and just prayed.
Her prayer was beautiful and kind. She affirmed me as a mother and prayed healing and strength all over me.
No judgement, no condemning, only love.
I have moved back to my home town now. Eight hours away from these village people of mine.
I have found a new local village, but it doesn’t replace my faraway friends.
We make intentional efforts to visit one another at least once a year if not more. I have made some of these gals my accountability partners for when I feel like I can’t handle the day any longer. They are friends who have made themselves worthy of my trust. And I hope I am worthy of theirs also.
These women have shown me that distance does not determine love. Each one is only a phone call or a text away.
Often times as we become adults we choose our own families. It doesn’t mean that we discard the one we were born into, it means we get to add to it. That is what my village is to me. Bonus family members.
Sarah Scott wants to live in a world where people sip copious amounts of coffee or red wine on front porches, laundry is self folding and all books are deep and captivating.When she’s not writing about intentional living or hashing out her faith questions, you can find her homeschooling her children, tossing items into giveaway boxes or smooching her foxy husband. Her first mini e-course — The Intentional Living Project —Just launched on October 5 2015. Learn how to live your life with joy and purpose at sarahonpurpose.com.
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