This reflection was part of the Vitality newsletter sent on September 4, 2026. To sign up for Vitality, click here.

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When I visited Lake Erie Yearly Meeting Annual Sessions this year, I saw examples of people taking care of each other as soon as I walked in the door. In a big room, two kindergartners were leading a high school student by a length of string. The younger children gently pulled him in different directions while he followed, blindfolded. They led him through the crowd, smiling and laughing.

As I registered and gathered my nametag, a volunteer organizer approached me to check in on some access needs I have. She wanted to make sure I was all set. I felt surprised that she remembered my name; she remembered that I was new; and she recalled specific access needs that I had listed on my registration form.

Have you ever been in a community, or even in a moment, where people are taking good care of each other? I like to watch for these moments when I’m out and about in town.

Noticing Healthy Community

A few years ago, I co-led a workshop at Ben Lomond Quaker Center about dialogue and storytelling. Midway into the weekend, we broke into small groups and asked Friends to describe a time they had experienced a healthy community. Many people began by first describing times of struggle. “Well, the first thing I think of is unhealthy community, of course…” Or, “I had this experience, and I don’t think it was really handled well…” When I tried the exercise, I had the same response.

This made me wonder: Are there moments of healthy community that I’ve experienced, and I let them slip by?

How much attention do I pay to the unresolved conflicts, the griefs, or the times that someone let me down? And how much do I celebrate when things are working well?

Keeping Track of Good Things

I once had a supervisor at an outdoor, hands-on job, who worked harder than anyone I have ever met. He taught me to stop and appreciate a job well done. When we were transplanting vegetables, we’d be stooping, bending, and sweating for several hours. One day, we planted 2200 onion starts in the ground. At the end, both of us were massaging our backs and counting the minutes to lunch. 

Before we left the field, though, my boss said: “Look at those nice straight rows. They look so good. We did a great job.”

Straight rows were prized on the farm. If the plants were planted far enough apart, weeding them was easier, and we’d have fewer pests. He modeled what it looked like to pause and celebrate our success — even when my back was sore, or it was hot out, or other things were going poorly.

So I want to take a minute today and celebrate. Even though my heart is sore, and it’s hot out, and some things (like democracy) are going very poorly.

I want to celebrate for every time I’ve seen a parent offer loving and firm limits to a child. For every time a friend said “I don’t think I’m up for that,” and stated what they needed. For every time I’ve been in a group, large or small, and someone has held space for someone else.

For the moments when one person reaches a goal, and others have been there to celebrate it. For every time I watched people older than me and people younger than me enjoy their time together. For the possibility of healthy community that is alive in each and every one of us.

There’s a lot of evil in the world, and some of it is creating lasting damage. At the same time, there are also moments of healthy living. Someone once told me that staying present to climate catastrophe required both grief and presence. Grief, to count the losses, and presence, to continue feeling other things and continue living in the world.

So today I choose both. Because somewhere out there, a young child is leading a high school student by a string, very gently, through the crowd. And somewhere out there, maybe not very far away, one person is looking out for another. And I believe that that kind of love is never wasted.

Johanna Jackson

Communications Coordinator