We’ve all heard the saying about “the community”—the concept that we collectively support one another in raising our children. But where is this community when we really need it?
Take, for instance, the headline “Mom Faces Consequences for Leaving Child in Car for Just Three Minutes.” One commenter on a popular parenting forum stated, “I found ways to run errands with my child without leaving them unattended. I’d rather call the authorities than ignore a potentially dangerous situation.” Instead of watching over the child, her instinct was to escalate the situation to law enforcement, which could lead to an investigation or even legal repercussions for the parent.
Another commenter reminisced, “I remember when parents helped one another instead of pointing fingers. Are you genuinely concerned, or do you just want to create drama? We’ve lost our common sense—let’s look out for one another instead of passing judgment.”
It’s clear we’ve lost that sense of community, and it’s disheartening. It’s not just in extreme situations that this is evident. I once saw a mother struggling to load her four small children into a minivan at the store. When I offered to help return her shopping cart, her relief was palpable, as if I had gifted her a winning lottery ticket. She shouldn’t have been that grateful—offering a helping hand should be the norm.
While she wasn’t helpless—she was clearly managing—she needed reassurance that others would support her rather than criticize her choices, be it for having “too many kids” or for an upset toddler.
I appreciate places like Publix, which feel like a microcosm of community. When I pay for my groceries, friendly staff members often help push my cart to the car and load my bags without accepting tips. These interactions foster a sense of belonging, and I find myself returning time after time.
There are, indeed, small glimpses of community if you look closely. Drivers will often stop for pedestrians crossing the parking lot, and kind strangers frequently offer assistance when they see a parent in distress. Such gestures are heartening, but they often feel like a corporate version of community.
My parents rarely needed to hire babysitters because they had family nearby. I don’t have that luxury, but I do have friends. My best friend and I used to spontaneously swap childcare and even help each other with household chores. That was a true community. Unfortunately, she moved away, leaving me without that support.
Instead of lamenting this loss, I’m determined to connect with other moms who could become part of my community. There are at least six women I know whose children are similar ages to mine. I can offer to watch their kids, cook for them, and help with household tasks. I can even remind them to stop cleaning before I come over and instead lend a hand myself. That’s what community looks like—helping one another through the chaos of parenthood.
Imagine sending my son and his friend down the street on their bikes to another mother’s house, trusting that they will be safe and entertained. This is community—knowing that our neighborhood is looking out for them.
But how does one build a community when they feel isolated? Start by reaching out to good friends. Offer to help with household tasks and childcare; you may be surprised by their gratitude and willingness to reciprocate. Extend a hand to that frazzled mom in the store or help someone struggling with their groceries.
Attend neighborhood meetings or take walks where you can genuinely engage with people you see. Introduce yourself and your family, and you might find yourself invited to neighborhood gatherings. When you eventually need a favor—whether it’s borrowing a cup of sugar or finding an emergency babysitter—you’ll have a network to rely on. Because just as you contribute to the community, the community should support you in return.
And perhaps, instead of panicking and calling the authorities when we see a child momentarily left in a car, we could take a moment to ensure their safety and greet the parent when they return—not with judgment, but with a simple “Hello.” Building trust within our community starts with small acts of kindness. It’s time to take that first step, whether it’s one mom offering to clean a bathroom, one babysitting session, or one thoughtful gesture at a time.
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In summary, while modern parenting can feel isolating, building a supportive community is possible through small, intentional acts of kindness and connection. Let’s work together to revive the village spirit we all long for.