During my first pregnancy, I didn’t give much thought to how community would shape my parenting journey. But now, seven years in, I feel the truth of “it takes a village” every day. When another parent gently redirects my child or a teacher celebrates a win, I feel lighter. Those moments remind me it’s not all on me. As the saying goes, my kids are being raised by a village, and so am I.
Community isn’t just where you live — it’s the groups you lean on and grow with. Your parenting village might include family, school staff, neighbors, friends, religious communities, or even online group chats. Each one plays a role in offering safety, belonging, joy, support, and perspective. When you feel isolated or overwhelmed, these connections can ground you in the knowledge that you're not navigating this alone.
When you take a moment to practice gratitude for your village, the connection deepens. Here’s a few steps to do this:
So if parenting feels heavy this week, pause and look around. How might you lean into your community for additional support for you and your family? You don’t have to carry it all alone.
Bestselling author of 28 novels, Jodi Picoult describes the real heroes in our lives:
Heroes didn't leap tall buildings or stop bullets with an outstretched hand; they didn't wear boots and capes. They bled, and they bruised, and their superpowers were as simple as listening, or loving. Heroes were ordinary people who knew that even if their own lives were impossibly knotted, they could untangle someone else's. And maybe that one act could lead someone to rescue you right back.
From Second Glance
Audre Lorde’s beautiful poem, If You Come Softly, guides us in how to engage in community:
If you come as softly
As wind within the trees
You may hear what I hear
See what sorrow sees.
If you come as lightly
As threading dew
I will take you gladly
Nor ask more of you.
You may sit beside me
Silent as a breath
Only those who stay dead
Shall remember death.
And if you come I will be silent
Nor speak harsh words to you.
I will not ask you why, now.
Or how, or what you do.
We shall sit here, softly
Beneath two different years
And the rich earth between us
Shall drink our tears.
How might you connect with your communities this weekend?