Know the saying “It takes a village to raise a child”? It is a commonly uttered statement. It brings about visions of ancient tribes of hunter-gatherers. Groups of men off to hunt leaving groups of women home to raise children essentially on their own, but all together. Rites of passage, menstruation huts, and wet nurses. Systems in place to ensure the best chance of survival of everyone in the tribe.
In this modern world, it can be hard to translate these visions into something that may look similar to our daily lives. This can be because you may not have found your village yet, or it can simply be due to the vast differences in how our lives are lived now.
But I found mine.
My village doesn’t look like this
It looks a bit more like this.
Even more beautiful.
I found my village, and then COVID did its part in separating us, but we still find our way back to each other time and time again. Here is what my village means to me.
They are there via modern-day technology — group chats — to listen in on good and bad days. They celebrate the good, mourn the bad, and help provide solutions. They are so good at acknowledging an issue without a need to fix it but are always ready with advice when asked. They rally together in support of each other when major life devastations occur, and because they are also mothers, they understand just what is needed without anyone having to ask. They organize meal trains, arrange for thoughtful gifts, and bring the greatest gift of their presence to help comfort.
We hit our peak village-ing at a king cake party the season before COVID. It was our second annual. No husbands allowed. Just moms and kids. And even my husband remembers how happy and content I felt returning home with our crew from such a fun event. It was wild. It was crazy. It was exactly what my soul needed then, and memories of that night continue to feed my soul now.
We had so many “moms night outs” prior to these parties. Which were super fun. But this inclusion of our kids was something special. I think it pulled on that innate tie that resulted from centuries of evolution that said “this is how it’s supposed to be”. Looking back now, I truly think this feeling of joy and contentment came from helping to mother each others’ children that night. Little pieces of mothering, like pouring a glass of water, serving a slice of king cake, helping a child climb down from a treehouse, killing a spider, or acknowledging a lego build all add up to one thing: helping to take some of the burden of motherhood from a friend. All of these small moments throughout a day add up to motherhood. Motherhood is also really big stuff, but these small moments chip away at the woman, making her feel less and less like herself and more and more like “mother”. We are all very good at these mothering tasks and often fulfill them as automatically as breathing. So taking some of these tasks on for a friend, even for just a few hours at a party, helps her to return to herself just a bit. And her openness and trust in allowing you to do so fills your cup too.
It’s all a sisterhood.
It’s all love.
