v. 22 The Unseen Threads of Belonging: Do You Really Need That Extra Kidney?
Welcome to Life, Created—a new [old school] blog for modern times. This twice-a-week(ish) dispatch is a space for us to dig deeper, recognize microjoys and build community beyond the mindless scroll.
Belonging is a curious thing. We often assume it’s rooted in a specific place or stage of life, something we step into once the right conditions are met. But more often, it unfolds in ways we don’t expect—in quiet gestures, shared moments, and the spaces where we really feel seen. It happens in the unexpected moments that remind us what true community looks like.
Case in point: Three months ago (which feels like both yesterday and a lifetime), I wrote an essay that set Instagram aflutter. Not Exactly ‘Emily in Paris’: Child-Free and the Awkwardness of Belonging in the ‘Burbs explored what it’s like to navigate suburban life as a child-free couple. If you missed it, I highly recommend reading it—many of you found it painfully relatable.🥴 You’re welcome and …I’m sorry.
But the conversation didn’t end there.
Jaime—a longtime Instagram pal —shared a response to that essay that knocked me on my ass. (Obviously, I don’t mean this literally.) Her story—one of initially resisting suburbia, then ultimately discovering a profound connection—reminds me that belonging isn’t about fitting into some weird-ass predetermined existence but instead, creating space where we already stand.
When I first wrote about navigating a community built around bus stops and PTA meetings as a child-free couple, I was speaking to a familiar kind of disconnection—the subtle ways in which parenthood often defines social circles, sometimes making it harder for those without children to find their place. But Jaime’s response offered a real-life reminder that community can take shape in the most unexpected ways.
Jaime and her husband moved to a small town outside Charlotte, North Carolina, unsure of whether they’d fit into a place that seemed so centered around traditional family life. Over time, they found connection through yoga classes, book clubs, and local gatherings. Even then, there were moments of feeling like they existed just outside the frame.
Then, everything changed.
A woman from Jaime’s book club mentioned that her husband—a father of three, just their age—was in end-stage renal failure and desperately needed a kidney transplant. Jaime felt an immediate pull but said nothing at first. Their community did what beautiful communities do—meal trains, gift cards, offers of support. But when the husband’s original donor was ruled out, Jaime quietly got tested. She was a match. And in November, she gave him one of her kidneys.
Let’s pause here. Because, HOLY SHIT! SHE GAVE A STRANGER HER KIDNEY. I mean, let’s normalize this but also, whoa!
She hadn’t expected anything in return. But what she received was a tidal wave of love from the very community she once questioned her place in. Neighbors checked in. Meals arrived at her doorstep. People who were once friendly acquaintances became deeply invested in her well-being. And in that moment, she realized something profound: belonging isn’t about fitting into a template. It’s about showing up, being seen, and letting ourselves be woven into the lives around us. [With her permission, you can read her full comment which I’ve screen grabbed below.]
And listen, I get it—giving someone a kidney is not for the faint of heart. (Jaime, if you’re reading this, you can now settle in and never do another generous thing in your life. You win. Just sayin.’) But truly, her story is a reminder that connection isn’t about proximity or shared routines—it’s about active participation and being present, whether that’s at a book club, a yoga class, or a spontaneous favor for a neighbor who ran out of olive oil at the worst possible moment.
Jaime’s experience left me reeling in the best possible way. But it also made me think about how belonging is built, slowly and quietly, over time. It’s in the barista who knows your order before you say it. It’s in the neighbor who swings by with that Vidalia onion you forgot at the store. It’s in the realization that even without the traditional suburban starter pack—kids, minivan, a deep-seated love for big box stores—we still have a place.
And maybe that’s the real point: we belong because we are here. Full stop. Whether in a big city, a small town, or somewhere in between, anywhere can be isolating or expansive, depending on how we choose to engage. But ultimately, belonging is about the threads we weave through shared moments, the ways we let ourselves be known, and the quiet understanding that we are part of something bigger than ourselves.
P.S. No pressure but you really do only need one good kidney. More on kidney donation here because go big or go home, right?
The snow and rain is coming down in that dramatic way that makes me grateful to be inside —wrapped in my oversized Farm Rio sweater, coffee in hand, watching the world turn into a slippery mess. And yet…there’s a part of me (the slightly unhinged part, maybe) that’s tempted to throw on my L.L. Bean boots and go for a walk in it. Because sometimes, the best microjoys are the ridiculous ones—like voluntarily stepping into a storm just to feel alive. And, let’s be honest, to confirm that it’s as bad as it looks from the window. I mean, how else will I know for sure?
That’s all for today. Thanks for reading Life, Created.
With love, wisdom [and small mercies] from Montclair. xx
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