The Unexpected Gift of Community

I was in the grocery store earlier today, on a mission to find potato starch. I’d never bought it before, so I had no idea where to look. 

As I stood there, scanning the overhead signs for a clue, another shopper sighed beside me and said, “I can’t find my thing either.” 

“What are you looking for?” I asked. 

 “Potato starch, for me.” I added. 

“You know, I think it might be down by the flour,” she said. So I wandered down that aisle, scanning the shelves. 

I found potato flour, I found cornstarch—but no potato starch. For a moment, I debated buying the potato flour instead, but a quick Google search told me it wasn’t the same thing. I settled on cornstarch and made my way to the checkout line. 

All along the way, people had been helping me look. Shoppers, strangers, all chiming in with ideas and encouragement. None of us had found it, but there was this shared sense of determination, a collective effort in something as small as tracking down an ingredient. 

Then, just as I was checking out, I heard a voice call out, “Wait!” 

I turned around, and there she was—another shopper, holding up a bag of potato starch. She had searched for it, found it, and then come all the way across the store to give it to me. 

“I really just wanted to complete this task for you,” she said with a smile. 

And in that moment, I was reminded of something so simple, yet so profound: Community is a gift. It’s not always grand gestures or organized efforts. Sometimes, it’s just a group of strangers in a grocery store, looking out for each other. 

It’s in the small acts of kindness, the willingness to connect, and the impulse to help—not for any reward, but just because we can. 

And that, to me, is what makes a community strong. Not just in times of crisis or celebration, but in the everyday moments where we choose to show up for one another, whether we know each other or not, even in the smallest of ways.

Barbara