Not long ago, on a Sunday, I was feeling not-good-enough and lifeless. The joy of holiday family time had morphed into a funk. I started the day feeling trapped in my role as wife and mom. The happiness of the household rested heavily on my shoulders, while my own happiness was quite uncertain. The day was slated to be a typical Sunday, trying to keep the kids on task for chores, getting ready for the week ahead, hopefully relaxing some.

My father-in-law had given us an Instant Pot for Christmas and we set out to hard boil eggs in it. Success! While the eggs cooled off in their ice bath I worked on a new puzzle (also a Christmas gift). Then my daughter Kyli and I returned to the kitchen to make deviled eggs. As we removed hard shells from rubbery eggs, my husband, Michael, shared a tip he had seen on YouTube about an easy way to peel hard-boiled eggs: roll them to crack the shell around the middle of the egg, and then slide the two ends of shell off the egg, easy-peasy. Well, I tried it and my egg started to break in half. I made an off-hand comment about how things never turn out the way it’s shown on YouTube, which triggered Michael (who was also already in a funk). He disappeared upstairs. This added to my distorted sense that I must be available to my family, take care of them, and keep them happy.

As I nagged our two young daughters about piano practice and showers and taking care of their pets, my stress level dialed up. My emotional capacity was insufficient for the girls’ interminable distractions and dragging feet. As the day wore on I felt more frustrated and inadequate. After lunch I retreated to my bedroom to be still and alone. I checked my phone and found a text discussion among our Monday moms’ prayer group, about day-after-Christmas goals. Someone sent this placard: “My two goals for today were to get out of bed and drink coffee. So far, I am a success.” There was a general agreement about the placard, a comment on the cold weather, and I plunged in with this: “I’m in a mood today. I feel worthless and angry. My kids are taking the entire day to take a bath and play their piano songs, and Michael is not impressed with my mood.” Within five minutes I had two offers to take my girls for the afternoon, multiple people praying for me, an invitation to a moms’ movie night, an offer to babysit later in the week, and many encouraging words. All I could do was cry. I went from feeling invisible to knowing I was seen and loved. It was cleansing. I didn’t know how life-sucked I felt until these women’s words gave me life.

I re-read their words. Chantel said, “Ah, I’m sorry Tobi. Can I bring you a coffee (or anything else to cheer you up)?” Tiffaney said, “So sorry Tobi! And just like that it starts dumping snow… like God saying, ‘I got this. I’m still here when you’re in a bad mood.’” Rufus said, “So glad that in all we face, our Father is in it with us and we are not alone, never abandoned! How amazing we are not valued by how we feel, but Who He is. Praying you through, sister.” After a good cry, I made plans to get coffee with Chantel, and Michael agreed to hang out with the kids at home.

Chantel picked me up and treated me to coffee at Roasters, then took me home to “say hello” to the family—her husband and seven kids, and the in-laws who were visiting. I stayed for two hours. Coryell (age 10) showed me most of the features of the camera she got for Christmas, and gave me a friendship necklace for my daughter Kayt. Bailey (age 6) showed me the mini piano keyboard she got for Christmas, and played tic tac toe with me. The youngest girls—Jessie and Marcy—requested hand sanitizer from my purse. Charlie (age 6) tried to solve a metal puzzle I had in my purse. Linda (the mother-in-law) served me homemade fruit cake with whipped topping. Jessie had giggle fits on Chantel’s back. Chantel shared a discussion she recently had about the shepherds telling everyone about Jesus, and how she thought of me as someone who does that kind of sharing. The kids laughed when I told them the reason I was at their house alone: “I’m in time-out from my family for being too grumpy.”

When it was time to go home, I realized that emptiness and inadequacy had given way to feeling rejuvenated and peaceful. And unknown to me at the time, Chantel’s husband Nic invited Michael to go to a movie at the theater that evening.

This is community, and it is sacred. Jesus ministered to me through all these friends.

As I reflect on that miraculous afternoon, I realize I experienced community in a new way. I have been blessed throughout my life to be part of a loving church community, and I have always been celebrated and supported. I was showered with gifts at my 8^th grade homeschool graduation in the community where I grew up. Where I now live, there are always baby showers and meal deliveries, wedding showers, and birthday parties. All of these are, to me, “legitimate” reasons for being cared for or celebrated; having a crappy day is NOT legitimate.

I have a wonderful life, so when I have a depressed day (which happens often), I pile on lots of shame for not being happy in my great life. I do not feel worthy of support, because the reason I desire support seems unacceptable. Yes, of course new moms, or kids graduating from school, ought to be supported and celebrated. But me with my lousy attitude? Not worthy.

My friends called all this stinkin’ thinkin’ into question by showering me with compassion in the midst of my anger and grumpiness. Now I know what it’s like to feel supported—to live in community—as a fragile human being: one who is allowed to be burdened by life and be held up by someone else.