Today I am Writing: On Community

I got home late on Friday afternoon, cracked open a beer, and sat down at my table. It had been a long week and I hadn't thought much beyond this moment, but I looked at the night ahead and thought, "an introvert evening it is."

Then suddenly there was a text, from the friend, to the smallish group of friends, saying:

"We are making tacos--want to make it a potluck?"

Text after text came in, "I have some cheese!" and "We will bring lettuce" and "I will grill peppers" winging through my quiet home.

I thought, "Well, I have tomatoes needing to be used..." and I texted then too, saying, "I can make some pico..."

I chopped some things up quick and squirted everything with lime. I pulled from my refrigerator a jar of pickled jalapenos and a few stray tortillas, and then I traveled across town. When I arrived my friends all cheered, and then I loaded up my plate with the most delicious accouterments a taco has ever seen, and got myself some water. Then we talked and we laughed and we ate, we reminisced. Before long we decided to walk around the block, as the sun laced the sky with ribbons of disrobing color, as a baby frog hopped across the sidewalk and birds squawked overhead.

In the middle of it all I got a call, from the friend with the new-ish babe. Another of our circle was suddenly in the hospital, with kidney stones. My friend was thinking to go watch her boys for a bit on Saturday morning; could I watch her girl?

So this morning kind of early, I loaded up some laundry and the coffee still in my cup, and went up the street. My friend and I chatted while she finished her yogurt, and then she got in her car and left. The babe and I went on the porch, we called my mom. We played and laughed and bounced on our strong legs. And when the babe got fussy, in that "I want to sleep but need you to help me" kind of way, we worked it out, until fast asleep, she was.

My friend returned, having taken the other friend's child for a long walk around his neighborhood. I got the laundry out of the drier, folded hers and put it on her bed while she changed the newly wakened babe. We talked a bit, about the things we'd missed since our mid-week walk, and then I left, for groceries and getting on with my day.

It wasn't all that dramatic, these spontaneous weekend events. But it reminded me of something I read recently, how when a person is in need, "all that will do anything for you is some cool water, held out by someone who has stopped everything else in order to look after you*."

I thought of the ways I am looked after, here in this community of mine. I thought of how I look after others.

And I thought: it wasn't all that dramatic, these spontaneous weekend events, but it was us, holding each other together.

*An Altar in the World, Barbara Brown Taylor, p. 172