I think that “it takes a village” also describes how we can care for each other in community. Three summers ago, I was diagnosed with breast cancer—just six months after being diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease. A double whammy for someone who always considered herself as young and healthy as a racehorse! Needless to say, this caused some major shaking up of my life, especially during the weeks prior to surgery, when endless tests were run to see if and how far the cancer had spread.

But throughout those questioning days, my husband and I were blessed beyond measure by a community of friends from our church and our neighborhood, of extended family that drove long distances into the blazing desert heat to be with me and pray with me, bringing with them homemade cookies, a crocheted prayer shawl made by my cousin Kris, a pink (of course!) prayer quilt made by quilters in my cousin Linda’s church—and the best of all, the gift of themselves. I’d never in my life felt so surrounded by God’s compassion and care. (I wouldn’t have missed it for the world!) All of these loved ones literally became His hands, His feet… “the only body He has on earth,” as Teresa of Avila penned centuries ago.

After surgery, one of the most comforting gifts my “village” provided was food. Nourishing soups and casseroles and chicken pot pies—comfort food of every variety. Food prepared with love and prayers—or chosen with great care from local eateries.

I was reminded of the importance of this when a friend called a few days ago, telling me that after her husband’s recent major surgery, no one had thought to bring a meal or even to call to see how he or she could help out. Our friends had relocated to another part of the state a few months ago, but that’s no excuse for the “village” they’d recently joined. Ironically, these dear friends were at the top of the list of those who sacrificially gave of themselves, bringing comfort and compassion to my husband and me three years ago.

We really do need each other—but too often, in the busyness of our lives we can easily forget those in need. A little soul searching here. I have received so many gifts from my village in times of need, but how much have I given when others are in need? Have I gone the extra mile to love others with tangible love that Teresa of Avila described? Or in the busyness of deadlines and editing projects and research and heaven only knows what else, do I forget the comfort and joy these simple gifts can bring to others?

I think I’ll write the following on a sticky note and attach it to my forehead (though I’ll have to write it backwards so I can read it in the mirror):

Just as when we take communion we receive Christ

into our lives, when we open our hearts to those in need—

nourishing them spiritually, emotionally, and physically—

they also receive Him into their lives—because of the One

in whose name our gifts are given.