When Your Friends Step In

Jeff was working long, unpredictable hours.
Lucy was sick. Her kids had a massive theater thing.
The podcast was busy.
I had an interview I’d been trying to schedule forever with Blair Imani (coming later this month, and I’m so excited about it).

And somewhere in all of that, I was supposed to keep homeschool moving forward, keep the house running, and generally act like I had a plan.

I didn’t have a plan.

But I had Sarah.

Sarah flew in with her husband, who was in town for the same work events. I know her from our time in Tokyo — our husbands worked together — and over time she’s become one of those people my kids just light up around.

They adore her. They adore her husband.

And without a big conversation or a formal ask, she just… stepped in.

She showed up like a second parent.

She sat with the kids.
Kept them on track.
Gave them one-on-one attention.
Made space for me to do what I needed to do.

At one point, we even made it to the beach before the weather turned.

She and I wrestled with a beach tent I have watched Jeff set up a hundred times, and somehow could not figure it out. We just kept going — determined, mildly confused — until the people behind us finally commented, “You’ve been working on that for a while.”

They weren’t wrong.

We moved into the water. She dove under and played with the kids in the sand, so I didn’t have to. I stood thankfully in waist-deep water, thinking about how great it is to have a Sara.

Later, when the storm rolled in, her husband spent hours playing video games with the boys so Sarah and I could get a few things done. They brought a new card game into the house that the kids are now obsessed with. We played at least five times before they left.

It wasn’t one big heroic moment.

It was a hundred small ones.

And here’s what stood out to me:

Sarah was on vacation in Hawi’i.
Yet she showed up fully for me.

No hesitation. No “I don’t know how to help.”
She just did.

And it made me realize something I think we forget:

Community isn’t just something you hope exists.
It’s something you build and something you have to be willing to lean on.

That part can be hard.

Asking for help.
Letting someone else step in.
Trusting that your people will show up for you.

In my experience, they often will.

And the other side of that is just as important, being that person for someone else when it’s their week that falls apart.

Showing up.
Sitting on the floor with their kids.
Figuring out the beach tent together.

That’s the kind of friendship that carries you.

And if you have someone like that in your life. hold onto them.

Text them. Thank them. Show up for them when it’s their turn.

Like how I showed up for Lucy this week:

— Elizabeth