It Takes a Village — and How to Be a Good Villager

“I’m starting to think you don’t really want a ‘village,’” my husband said with a playful hint of concern when I tried to decline an invitation to a friend’s birthday party.

At the time, I didn’t know the gathering wasn’t just a birthday celebration — it was a surprise baby shower for me. Our friends had planned a joyful day to honor the upcoming arrival of our newest family member. How thoughtful! And yet, there I was, tempted to stay home, tucked away in my own familiar comfort.

When I walked into that room and saw the beaming faces, heard the laughter, and felt the warmth in the air, I was instantly glad I came. The decorations were beautiful, the food delicious, the conversation rich. But more than anything, it was the love in the room — the way people had shown up for us — that made it unforgettable.

I was reminded of my bridal shower, my wedding, and other milestones where people gathered not just to celebrate events, but to hold space for the connections we share. These gatherings aren’t simply about the occasion. They’re about the village — the people who choose to show up for you, again and again, weaving threads of care into your life.

The Village You Keep

The idea of a “village” is beautiful in theory — a network of people who help you raise your children, heal from your heartbreaks, and celebrate your wins. But life has taught me something important: you don’t automatically get the right village just because you need one. Villages can fracture. People leave. And sometimes, you have to let them go.

On my healing journey, I’ve had to make difficult choices — ending friendships that drained me, going no-contact with people who repeatedly caused harm, and accepting that outgrowing certain relationships is not cruelty, but self-preservation.

One of the bravest things I’ve ever done was accept that “burning a bridge” is sometimes just protecting yourself from walking back into a fire. I pray I never have to depend on those I’ve released. My hope — my daily prayer — is to be surrounded by people whose love builds rather than breaks, whose care heals rather than harms.

The Inconvenience of Community

Here’s the part that’s not often talked about:

A healthy village will inconvenience you.

It will ask you to get out of bed when you’d rather stay home.

It will require showing up for someone when your to-do list is full.

It will mean putting aside comfort to meet the needs of another human being.

Being a good villager means being willing to rearrange your plans, to make space for someone else’s crisis or joy, to give without the guarantee of getting. It’s not always convenient. In fact, it rarely is. But that’s the point.

Because the moment you need help, you’ll want people who are willing to be inconvenienced for you.

How I’m Building (and Being) a Better Village

Here’s my approach — part vision, part commitment:

1. Identify my people — The ones who are kind, dependable, and bring more light than shadow into my life. This includes friends, family, and even kind acquaintances who’ve shown genuine care.

2. Practice honest communication — Listening deeply when they speak, sharing my own truths without fear, and creating a space where vulnerability is safe.

3. Offer tangible help — Not just “thoughts and prayers,” but meals dropped off, childcare offered, projects supported, and practical solutions shared.

4. Celebrate loudly — No milestone is too small to honor. A win for one is a win for the whole village.

5. Create shared moments — Group dinners, game nights, book clubs, walks in the park — time together that deepens bonds beyond surface-level catch-ups.

6. Accept (and give) inconvenience with grace — Knowing that sometimes, the most powerful act of love is showing up even when it’s hard, tiring, or imperfectly timed.

The Truth About Villages

Building and maintaining a village is not for the faint of heart. It takes sacrifice, patience, and a willingness to both lean in and lean on. But in return, you gain something priceless — a circle of people who help you carry life’s weight, and whose presence makes the joys even brighter.

It turns out my husband was right — I do want a village. I just needed to learn that part of wanting one is being willing to be one.