Friendship That Grows With You
Friendships are funny things.
They can start with late nights out, questionable decisions, and inside jokes you couldn’t explain if you tried. Then, before you know it, the conversations shift. Suddenly you’re not talking about concerts and road trips anymore - you’re talking about sleep regressions, the rising cost of groceries, and whether your kid’s meltdown at Target means you’re failing as a parent. (It doesn’t. We’ve all been there. I promise.)
The beauty of true friendship is that it grows with you. It weaves together the silly with the sacred, the wild nights with the wiped-out mornings. And sometimes, friendship doesn’t come from years and years together - it surprises you later in life.
That’s how it’s been with Torri.
Even though we grew up in the same church family, with our paths overlapping for nearly a decade, we didn’t actually connect until this past year. Meeting Torri and getting to know her family has been such a gift. And funny enough, it’s also stirred up memories of my own lifelong friendship with Matthew - because Torri is married to Mike, Matthew’s younger brother. Back when we were kids, there was just enough of an age gap that I never really knew Mike. But life has a way of weaving people together at just the right time.
What makes this connection even more meaningful is that all of us - me, Matthew, Mike, and Torri - grew up in the Jackson First United Methodist Church family. That church was a second home for each of us. Confirmation classes, youth group, kids’ choir, Wesley choir, hand-chimes, handbells, mission trips, family camp… we did all the things. And back then, the church was booming. The halls were full of children, families, and friends our own age. It was a thriving, joyful, multigenerational community.
By the time Torri and Mike came into adulthood, it was still strong. But like so many congregations, time and shifting culture have taken their toll. Today, the church I’ve returned to with my own family looks very different. The sanctuary isn’t as full. Youth programming is small. There are no children’s choirs anymore. The heartbeat of community is still there - but the body needs renewal.
That’s where I see such deep alignment between the church’s mission and the dream of The Village Collective. The church mission states:
“We are an inclusive, intergenerational community of faith who love God with our hearts, hands, and voices.” They remind us: “We have a heart for God and a heart for people… and all means ALL.”
The Village Collective isn’t a religious group - we simply meet in the church space. But Torri and I both believe that if those words are true, then this is exactly the kind of life that mission statement calls us to build.
A space where moms, families, and children belong.
Where connection grows again. Where love is visible and active in community.
Torri brings such heart, compassion, and faithfulness into this work. She’s part of the bridge between what was and what can be - a friend who grows with you, a mom who shows up for others, and a woman I’m grateful to have alongside me as we nurture this dream into reality.
She’s also a mother in faith - raising her little boy with so much love, joy, and intention. If you’ve ever seen him running around with that spark in his eyes, you know how much he reflects the warmth and connection Torri pours into him every day.
The Village Collective is built on friendships like this. Friendships rooted in love, strengthened by community, and open wide enough to welcome more.
Because belonging shouldn’t just be a memory from our childhood churches or youth groups. It should be something we create right here, right now - for our kids, for our families, and for each other.
