Do you have a community better than the dentist office?
My wife and I received a phone call on Thanksgiving eve that we will remember forever. Our
daughter at 20 weeks pregnant was rushed to the hospital. Quickly, the situation progressed
from urgent to dire. In a matter of moments, we were informed that the baby would be lost,
and our daughter may be as well.
It’s a helpless feeling, living 5 states away. So, what do you do in a situation like that? You do
what you are supposed to do, of course. You pack your bags for an indefinite amount of time,
leave Thanksgiving dinner on the counter, and start driving. Although our daughter’s life was
spared, the following days were filled with fear, anxiety and intense sadness. However, it’s not
lost on me that this nightmarish story has been laced with the rich blessing of community.
Micah and Josh (my daughter and son-in-law) have made it a priority to surround themselves
with the kind of people that live by a common mantra, “to make each other great.” These are
the kind of people who serve one another on boring Monday’s as well as tragic holidays. We
were now driving into the epicenter of this web of sacrificial relationships, and over the next
few days we would see fruit of an established community that’s made a habit out of serving
one another. It’s a contagious thing; serving one another. Communities such as this produce a
culture where people truly want to do hard things. Paulette and I were just two of many, who
wanted to sacrifice our time, spend our money and take insanely cold walks around the
hospital. We wanted to step into that awkward silence where we had nothing to say. We
wanted to weep with those who wept. It's what we wanted to do.
As Paulette and I drove the 13 hours to get there, we filled the awkward silence with a
combination of prayers, tears and memories of our own loss. It was in this forced chamber of
reflection where this “rich blessing” began to take further shape for me. A parallel was drawn
as I sat behind the wheel. A parallel to another chair I was sitting in just 24 hours earlier. A chair
that I thought at the time was the worst place in world. I was at the dentist. I hate going to the
dentist. The staff are always so sticky sweet. They smile while drilling a piercing pain so deep, I
can feel it in my toes. As I made the long walk from my truck to that dental chair, I was lavished
with kindness from every angle. The hygienist, the girl at the front desk, and the dentist himself,
all incredibly nice. Yet, the moment I walk out of their office, I found myself murmuring under
my breath, “Those are the greatest people that I hope I never see again.” Unfortunately, this
can be said about a lot of our communities. Our neighbors, church members, and even families
are made up of the nicest people that don’t know how to be more than that. So, what made
this experience so different? Why was I driving so urgently and intently into an ache
unspeakably more poignant than the dentist? I assure you; it wasn’t merely out of familial duty.
It’s because the relationships waiting for us, were already developed. It’s because Josh and
Micah are not only our kids, they are our best friends. They serve us, and we serve them. We
are in their circle as much as they are in ours. As we drove into their town, which used to be
ours, we were met with the support of our own circle of people. Friends, alumni, and former
co- workers all sincere in their sacrificial statement, “if there is anything we can do, please let us
know.” Not surprising, there was an overlap between their circle and ours. An overlap of
selfless people marked by more than niceness. This was a community that did more than
believe the same doctrine, share the same dinner table, or work in common proximity. It was a
community forged from a reciprocal desire to make each other great.
