I spent several of my tween years living in Florida, where my dad was the pastor of a small and close-knit Mennonite church. The church was unique in that it consisted of individuals who loved doing things together and creating special traditions outside the common Christian ones. They were also very loving and inviting. In this church, I found adopted grandparents who snuck me peppermint candy each Sunday and young, cool mothers who nurtured me in a way that made me feel seen.

They were big on volleyball. Each Sunday after church, a volleyball net was set up in the grass, and we spent hours playing, talking, and eating together. There were also Halloween parties, Christmas caroling, wagon rides, and even basket-making classes, all within the familiar confines of people I knew and saw on a weekly or bi-weekly basis.

Three years after we arrived in this community, my dad passed away from cancer, and within a week, we were driving with my oldest brother in a U-Haul back to Colorado. In our new city, my mom and I tried to find something similar to the church we had in Florida, moving from one church to the next, never feeling like we fit in or were truly wanted. I know this was hardest for my mother, who, as a former pastor's wife, had spent the last thirty-two years at the center of a church. It was hard for me as well. I felt like I’d completely lost my sense of identity and safety.

At 45, I still yearn for the strong sense of identity, safety, and belonging I felt in Florida. I think many of us who grew up in a church and later moved away from religion feel this loss, especially when we have children and want them to experience the positive side of belonging to a larger group of connected individuals.

There’s something transformative about the dynamic created when people of varied ages and experiences come together for a common goal, sharing the workload of building something meaningful. Over time, trust is built, along with the reassurance of knowing that when life gets hard, there are people who truly know you and will support you without asking.

I believe it’s vital for those of us who know this feeling to reach for each other and create something of our own, a common space for belonging, a church that isn’t a church, and while some might find glimpses of this within their own families or close friendships, there is something uniquely powerful about connecting with people who aren’t related in an intentional group of 20 to 50 people.

It’s this intentionality, the weaving of lives and relationships, that I am passionate about cultivating and bringing to life with Nature Song. While many of our gatherings might initially seem like just another event in Anchorage in a sea of options, they are so much more. My hope is to co-create purposeful reasons to consistently show up for each other. Just like the Sunday ritual of always going to church, I hope to find those who are eager to gather regularly and build something deeper, a space where they can truly invest their time, energy, and attention, and in doing so, rediscover the strength of belonging to a community that genuinely cares.

If you know of a momma with young kids, new pods will be starting in March within the Forest Collective as well as gatherings for all ages through Generation Circle.

Connect with me if you’d like to take part in this co-creation!

The Church that isn't a Church