I did not want community this past weekend. I have been exhausted from drama of the world and across my life.

I did not want community but community is what I got.

This past weekend, my family and I attended a retreat for families with children who have Type 1 Diabetes. If one desired a pure manifestation of what community is and what we should all strive for, this would be that.

Yes, its members benefit from a shared burden: sometimes living with the disease, sometimes caring for those with the disease and sometimes both. And sometimes those who are drawn in via work or simply a spirit of volunteerism.

But they are together. They know each other.

This weekend I saw, experienced and contributed to some of the critical ingredients to community:

Communion: This is a strong word and often a religious one at that. Not all communities deeply connect in such powerful ways. But as I sat amongst fellow parents, each of us crying inside and outside as we shared out experiences, I could think of no better word. A deep connection. I know it sounds strange and funny. People that I just met for first time, I would help no matter what. And I knew – I know – that it was reciprocal. And not just to help, but to share viscerally.

Vulnerability:  I have cried too deeply, too many times since my daughter’s diagnosis. At a moment’s notice, I can tap into the same feelings that brought me to body-shaking, uncontrollable tears that first night in the hospital. I cried openly at the retreat. I knew that everyone else was feeling the same. Not every community has to be replete with tears but to enter into new experiences with such openness can lead to fundamental and strong connections.

Love: There was a moment during the weekend that captured it all. That summed up everything I was thinking and feeling. A retreat leader, a young woman who has lived with Type 1 for much of her life and a young person one who is clearly strong, resilient and full of optimism and hope, was guiding a group of parents on the social challenges of Type 1 Diabetics. After listening to us all break down, crying about how our young children were struggling, she broke down herself, as she talked about how she was struggling with the idea, and the possibility, of having children. She cried as she talked about her military father did nothing but hug and hold, to support her. In that moment, I saw my daughter. In that moment, I hoped that I would do the same. And in that moment, I realized that loving support was a critical component of having us all survive this disease.

None of this solely defines a community. But with that word so heavy on the mind as of late, I wish that more could experience community thusly.

I was glad to have gone.