Small Group and Community

 The kids waiting on the Christmas parade. It is small town and corny but the kids love it. It is mostly a hit because they get free candy. And this year a guy was dressed as a Storm Trooper so that was an added bonus for our boys.

Decorating and eating Christmas trees at our small group Christmas gathering. 

Every Sunday night a group of people meet at our house. A gaggle of kids ranging in age from newborn to elementary school aged make noise and play games and wander through our time of discussion and prayer. This group of people, unlikely friends to outside eyes, they know us. We discuss Sunday's sermon and how to apply it to our lives. We pray together. We cry together. We ask questions about God's Word together. We celebrate with each other and we mourn with each other. We try to help each other practically as best we can. These people are part of our community. Our family. The wise old gentleman and his wife who have lived long and seen much and pray deeply and still get teary eyed over the wonder of God's love. The family from a country far away whose culture is different and who show us what sacrifice and commitment and hard work and faith look like. The family of blended cultures whose language I don't always understand but who are quietly, patiently, hard workingly faithful and wonderfully encouraging. The farmer's family who work the earth and run summer camp and provide us with good food and let our kids run wild over their land. There are other families who come and go as their schedules allow.

We are not perfect. We have much to learn about being more intentional, about loving each other well. But every Sunday night we make the effort. We gather. As time has passed and we have shared, struggled, and celebrated together our bonds have formed. These people are part of my tribe, my family.