No new mother can go 24-hours without hearing “it takes a village to raise a child.” I remember how frustrating it was for me to hear as a new mom. My parents and my in-laws, while in state, were 1.5-2 hours away from me. My job was demanding, especially in the summer months, and I often felt like I had no idea what I was doing as a new mother. My husband and I had joined our local parish 3 years ago when we moved to town, but the friends we made were also having/had young kids of their own, and also had demanding jobs. We lived in a rural area and could not see another house from our yard/driveway. Basically, my day-to-day village felt like a ghost town.
I had a unique 11th-14th grade experience. Until I was 17, I lived in Connecticut and I only moved houses once that I remembered. Therefore, my life consisted of a lot of “sameness.” Then, my dad got a new job. In Wisconsin. So, after junior year of high school, we up and moved to the land of milk and cheese. I spent my senior year of high school at the local Catholic school, and then went off to college. Plot twist, I really did NOT like the college I attended, so I opted to transfer. For those following along, that was four schools in four years in three different states in two different time zones.
I was raised to believe that we make our own luck. If you want something, you show up to get it. If there is a goal, you diversify your eggs into as many baskets that point toward that goal and get to work. When I transferred colleges, I wanted real friends. Not the fake ones I had encountered thus far. So, I went to work. I joined campus ministry, I got a job working for the Marquette University Athletic Department as a student photographer, I got a job working at one of the campus cafeterias, and I joined the rowing club. I wanted a diverse net that would surround me with people that had similar values of faith, work ethic, athleticism (though I was never D1 athlete material), and interests.
Like I had been taught, I made my own luck. I found my now husband from the rowing club, found a deeper love for my faith, and met a few great mentors and other strong, true friends along the way.
Now that my husband and I had started a family and found our village empty again, I took that same fervor of making college friendships and applied it to making friends with other moms. Anytime someone invited me somewhere, I said yes, even if I didn’t feel like it. Call me creepy, but I took notes on my phone regarding the names and ages of their kids and their husband’s occupations or places of employment. I invited them to my house, or planned park play-dates. I sent letters of encouragement in the mail. I took chances and was vulnerable in conversations. Getting friendships started was work. Hard work. Sometimes it would be lots of time or energy invested into a person for it to not be reciprocated, or for interests to be too different to maintain a strong relationship. I have learned that this is all part of the process!
It has been 7 years, and I finally feel like I have a really solid group of friends that I know I can count on – the kind where I can drop my kids off so I can take the bleeding one to the ER for stitches. The kind I can text and say, “I am drowning. Can I come over with a bag of snacks?” The kind of friends that can count on me for a check in, a laugh, or a playdate. The kind of friends that know I hate cooking, but accept a meal from my kitchen joyfully.
Everyone wants a village, but no one wants to be a villager.
I invite you to think about your village – is it empty or is it full? When was the last time you initiated something with the mom who is new to the area or new to motherhood? When was the last time you made a sacrifice of time, or resources for a friend (or family member or stranger!)?
Being part of a village takes work. Being a villager is work. Being the only villager who works is not the same as being part of a village.
For those of you who don’t have the same friends from childhood, take heart! The rest of the world is not closed off to you. I am praying for you, that you find your village and that you have the courage to be a great villager, too.