When I heard the news about a six-week stay in Rochester, the turnover needed to be quick to make the arrangements to get things rolling. And first and foremost, I needed a place to stay. There’s an option here for free housing for cancer patients undergoing treatments, and there are apartments and  Airbnbs and long-term hotels and so I set to looking into what was available. And then I set into being overwhelmed. And then I got a message in my inbox.

“Thinking and praying for you. We own a townhome in Rochester and we don’t have a tenant now. If you’d like to stay there, we’d be honored to have you.”

It was a column reader, a concert attender, a fellow North Dakotan who had nothing to gain from the offer but to show kindness. Her family, unfortunately, knows what it’s like to be displaced by cancer. She was paying it forward.

I took a quick breath and tears came to my eyes. I messaged back to take her up on it and a wave of relief washed over in her response.

This is that village they’re talking about, only sometimes they take care of you while taking care of their own ailing loved-ones hundreds and hundreds of miles away.

I’m writing this now from their little back deck facing a small field on the edge of town under a blanket my friends put in a care package full of carefully researched gifts: throat spray, notebooks, crossword puzzles, cough drops, tea, a nail kit, candy, a thermos and more all in a bag I load up with me on days I head to chemo treatments. And what was so touching about the gift is that the givers seemed to have researched more than I had about the symptoms that I may encounter and the things that I may need to send me on my way as ready as can be.

My little sister did the same thing, the master of Google, asking me questions that I didn’t know the answers to, she found out for me. And she sent me groceries for the first night we arrived at the townhome. And because I am who I am, I accidentally gave her the address to the Post Office instead of the house, which sent Chad on a little field-trip at 8 am, but we got them and were stocked up for the first week.

My little sister is the queen of my village, living right over the hill and working in our daughters’ school as the guidance counselor, I couldn’t have picked a better woman to take it from here. I mean, as my daughter said, “Can we just stay at Alex’s? She’s just like mom.”  I’m comforted knowing that with her my kids feel safe to be themselves, even when it’s ugly and messy and emotional. They can misbehave and not feel ashamed. She will get after them the same way I do, hold them to the same standards, and force my youngest into group hugs when she needs it and won’t admit it.

And she’ll let them try to catch the chickens and make sure they have fun.

Meanwhile, friends are sending spaghetti and roast beef suppers home with my husband a couple days a week so he doesn’t have to worry about meals every night. And they’re taking the girls on play dates and making sure they get their 4H presentation done. The lemons-to-lemonade theory is in full effect as they’ve spent special time with their other aunts, uncles and cousins and of course, they’re grandparents.

Turns out the best thing in the world you can do for your kids is to set up that village. I’m seeing first-hand, again, what it means.

But I’m here to tell you that I know I am fortunate to have placed our lives in the middle of family and friends I have known for decades. It was a choice my husband and I made when we knew we wanted to have a family, and there are some sacrifices that come with that, but they have never outweighed the rewards. I understand fully that being surrounded by family is not a reality for everyone and I know the struggles that come with that. And I know it’s so hard to find those friends who you can rely on to be fully vulnerable in a community that hasn’t always been yours. I’d like to give some sort of profound advice here, but I don’t have any. I just have examples of how people showing up for us has informed my life and made me realize that existing in the village means paying attention not only to your own needs but to the needs of others. I’m here to tell you it is as simple as a text, a card dropped in the mail, an actual phone call without the expectation that they will pick up or call back. I am the first to admit I am not so good at that. But you all are teaching me every day during this blip in my life what it means to be cared for and I thank you for that. I thank you for being my village at home and from hundreds of miles away.

Who are we without one another?