In a regular time and space I don't know, there was a house vibrating with life, the very walls built with the concrete ties of love, windows and doors threatening to spill all the energy into the yard and street.
I hear the stories.
Every weekend the families, they came together for the children to run and yell and play and grow and the adults to talk and enjoy and pray and grow.
I've touched these kinds of afternoons-turned-evenings in sporadic seasons of our life, sitting in the warmth of community, lives shared and hearts bared and tied together with ropes of experience and hour spent well in conversation.
I know that villages are not built on concrete slabs within the same neighborhood as often now.
I'm just now figuring out the new construction codes, and they require bricks of time, foundations of commitment and mortar of follow-through.
There's labor in the building of a home that houses community.
I've gotten my hands dirty, and now I'm ready to be coated head to toe.