By Maggie O'Donnell 
When my husband brought up the idea of moving back to my hometown nearly eight years ago, I didn’t want to move. While having my parents help with our growing family was going to be a huge blessing, and the prospect of a new career was on the horizon for my husband, I had just begun to build a small network of friends where we were, and the thought of leaving that community was gut-wrenching.
Fast-forward to today: the community we have built here now surpasses what we had before ten-fold. On any given day I know I can call a friend to grab coffee or even watch my toddler if I need it. My older kids are thriving in school with classmates they love, and my husband—who is not as social as I am—even gets caught in conversations after church or invited out for the occasional beer.
I go to a bi-monthly small group with women in my stage of life where we encourage each other to thrive in the chaos of life with small humans. I have even found my volunteering niche: I plan and organize large-group events at our church that bring hundreds of people together. My passion, I have found, is building community and connecting people, and over the last half-decade, my husband and I have built a beautiful community for our family here.
However, we recently realized that it may be time to move our family elsewhere, for mostly financial reasons. This was always in the back of our minds, and we have been talking about the possibility for years because this area is very expensive and only getting worse. When we moved here, we saw this area as more of a stepping-stone for my husband’s career, not a permanent home. But life happens between the best laid plans, and here we are eight years later with four kids, two cats, and a community I don’t know what I would do without.
So, I once again have that gut-wrenching feeling of loss. I’m realizing that if this truly is what is best for our family, then I can’t hold us back. Yet, I am already mourning the vibrant community we have here and wondering how we could ever have something like this elsewhere.
How could I find a friend who, even while pregnant with twins, will drop what she is doing to pick up my daughter from preschool (because I forgot), with absolutely no judgment? Who will I go out for a beer with on a Monday night because we both just need a break from life and to vent about it? And then the scarier questions come: What if I don’t find anyone who shares our family’s beliefs and values? What if other moms find me overbearing or annoying? What if my kids don’t make new friends and hate me for it?
New beginnings are scary. Motherhood can be lonely, and it never seems like we have enough time for anything, especially meeting new friends. Yet, if there is one thing I have learned in the last eight years, it is that you don’t just fall into a community . . . you must build it. Building something takes time, but it is worth it because everyone needs community (especially moms!).
Some days–and even some years–will be harder and lonelier than others. You won’t make an instant connection with most people. You will have to build that connection over play dates and pick-ups and coffee and hopefully, a little wine. It will take overcoming the fear of rejection. It will take being vulnerable. It will take persistence and patience. And most of all, it will take believing in your worth—because you are worthy of community.
So, as our family prepares to move on to our next stage in life, I guess it’s time to take my own advice: It takes a village to raise little humans, so go build one.
by Kristen Tenini 
by Her View From Home 
by Jordan Morgan 
