My heart is so full tonight.

People in this space talk about the importance of community. I think everyone’s experience is different. So let me give you a little window into our small mountain road community in western North Carolina.

When I first moved here about ten years ago, there was, honestly, a fair amount of strife. 

But a vision was held—a vision of a cohesive community. 

In the other world I grew up in, things were different. I remember living in a neighborhood in Pennsylvania for many years and not even knowing our neighbors. Everyone lived their own lives.

Here, in the country, it’s nothing like that.

Yes, we each have our own lives. But there is a community. Sure, little issues still arise now and then. But overall, we really do have a wonderful community.

We share a private road. After Hurricane Helene, it needed a lot of repairs. Years ago, that was managed by a legal document and annual dues. Now? We just pitch in as we can. Sometimes some contribute more than others. Sometimes someone offers to help even when we know it would stretch them too thin, and we say, “Next time.”

After Helene, one neighbor paid for a section of road beyond her own property—because she knew that if the culvert upstream wasn’t fixed, it would undo all the other repairs. She didn’t have to. But she did. I’ll never forget that.

Another neighbor had some issues arise that felt very threatening to them and they were ready to sell their home and move. A few of us rallied around them. Told them we had their back—that we love them. They’re still here.

Those moments fill my heart.

A Baby and a New Kind of Fullness

One of the neighbors recently had a little boy. Tomorrow, I’m going to visit. The happy parents could use a little break. It’s been a long time since my grandchildren were babies—they’re in their twenties now.

I don’t spend a lot of time with human babies. My own “babies” are my twelve-year-old doggies. My path is quiet: homesteading, the New Earth vision, the woodsheds, the chicken barn.

But ever since I got the call, my heart has felt wider. Non-stop anticipation.

Maybe God knew something I didn’t. Maybe having a little baby in my life is something my heart desires too, even if I’m mostly focused on other things. And my neighbors—they want my help. They want me to know their son. They want my company.

That fills me. However it evolves.

The Wood I Didn’t Expect

As I was leaving my neighbor’s home, she mentioned something almost casually: she has a lot of seasoned stacked wood that she’s been trying to give away for years. They use a firepit sometimes, but her son says he can easily bring more wood. She genuinely wants me to have it.

And for me?

For those of you who’ve followed my blog posts, you know the story: the heat pump failure in freezing weather. Friends who hadn’t visited in years showing up to teach me how to use my wood stove safely. Buying seasoned wood. Building eight new woodsheds. Another friend helping me harvest wood from my own land. Completing that process.

And now—a neighbor I love, offering what may be the rest of the wood I need to fill every shed. Enough for next winter, with margin.

Can you see God’s hand in all this? The huge smile?

What could have been a crisis—a broken heat pump—has become a full wood supply, new skills, deeper friendships, and a heart full of gratitude.

The New Earth Is Small and Quiet

I believe our world as we know it is crumbling. I think there’s a lot more challenge coming. But I keep my eyes on the horizon. And in my heart, I see the New Earth.

Not a distant dream. Little buds breaking through the soil.

A New Earth where neighbors really are neighbors. Where we genuinely love each other. Where the Divine provides what we need—even when it isn’t obvious.

Tonight, my heart is full.

With love and blessings to all,

Lynn & Claude‑y 💚💫✨