Nothing will force you to consider your blessings quite like the morning after a tornado warning or three. On a normal day, I don’t have to look very far to find 100 reasons to be grateful, but today my heart is the fullest it’s been in a very long time.

You see this pile of branches?

‍

It represents the very essence of what a small town community is. It’s no hesitation, do’ers getting the job done, standing in gaps and breaking a sweat for their neighbor.

It’s a story that starts on Sunday morning, when my husband was experiencing some odd physical symptoms. On the way to church I began to pray, “Lord, if we need to go to the hospital now, I’mma need you to make that real clear.” Of course, I didn’t a bit more get those words out of my head when my husband turned to me and said, “I think I need to go to the emergency room right now.”

It didn’t take long for doctors to figure out his symptoms were the result of a hemorrhagic stroke and subsequent bleeding on his brain. He is okay, with very minor residual symptoms. He’s lucky, blessed and highly favored, to say the least.

Needless to say, it’s been a crazy week. But amidst the chaos, our village showed out like never before. There were friends showing up with food for our kids, and countless offers to help anywhere needed. There were prayers whispered at home and over the phone echoing in his room in the ICU. Our family has felt the love for sure.

The culmination of that love came late yesterday when I arrived home to find that the storms had knocked down a tree in our front yard, blocking the driveway and entrance to the house.

I’ll be the first to admit that marriage has made me a bit weak in regards to handling a crisis, so I was instantly overwhelmed. But before I could even get out of the car, two of our neighbors (and friends) came running up, ready to execute a plan. Within 30 minutes, my yard was full of other neighbors, friends, a couple of zealous teenage boys ready to show off their strength, and one complete stranger who was really good with a chainsaw.

It’s worth mentioning that I didn’t make a single phone call or request for help. These guys just showed up.

They worked until the job was done, even as the rain poured down with occasional lightning off in the distance. As we stood there watching, my oldest daughter remarked on what a crazy week we’d had, but all I could think about was how truly blessed we are, and that I was so happy my children could witness this. My six-year-old son, eager to be one of the guys, (and also splash in large puddles) made his daddy and I very proud, jumping in to stack branches and collect sticks. In that moment, amidst the chainsaw smoke and other dude-ish noise, he learned something that will stay with him forever.

We help each other.‍

It’s one thing to watch his daddy — his hero and best friend — do the right thing on the regular. He’s also storing up other examples, like yesterday, that being a good neighbor is NOT the exception but absolutely the rule around here.

My story, though heartwarming and shareable, isn’t that unique. Over the next few days, we’ll hear other similar examples of neighbors showing up in the same kind of ways.

If nothing else, let those stories be a shining example not only to our children, but also newcomers to our area.

It’s a visual representation of what we mean when we say, “You are welcome here, but please don’t try to change our way of life.”

This is who we are. This is what we do. No one is alone unless they choose to be.

‍