When twenty people gathered for our Community Building group’s cookie exchange, the rules were simple: bring or buy 36 cookies, come ready to share. You didn’t have to bake them yourself—if time or energy or desire wasn’t there, you could still come and belong. No judgment, just presence.
Lisa welcomed us into her home. Cindy had arranged a table so beautifully that we all paused to take it in before diving in. The setup alone told us: this matters, you matter, we’re creating something here.
We sat in a circle—some of us knew each other well, others were meeting for the first time—and each person told the story of their cookie. A grandmother’s recipe. A tradition of buying locally made. A last-minute choice that turned into something meaningful when shared. These small stories became bridges. I watched people lean forward, asking follow-up questions, genuinely curious about each other’s lives.
People weren’t asking questions to be polite. They actually wanted to know. The kind of attention that says, “I want to know you, not just know about you.”
There was a palpable pleasure in the room – that particular joy of spending time with people whose company you genuinely enjoy. I felt it, and I could see it in others too. We could assume certain things about each other—a shared concern for people, for planet, for building something better. That shared understanding created the kind of comfort where authenticity becomes possible. At least for me, it offered the safety to share a little more than I normally would. And that’s where meaningful conversations live—in that space between comfort and courage.
We marveled at the diversity of cookies on that table—the variety of traditions and tastes and ways of being in the world, all represented in flour, sugar and care. Everyone went home with more cookies to share, an abundance created through sharing.
When Cookies Become Community
I took some of those cookies to my new neighbors that I hadn’t met yet. It gave me a reason to knock, to introduce myself, to say, “I’m part of something that believes in connection, and I want you to be part of it too.”
That welcoming circle keeps expanding.
Isn’t that what TTGM is about? Building resilience through the relationships that hold us when things get hard?
And right now, we’re living through something heavy. The fear is real and it’s everywhere—in immigrant communities, in black and brown communities, among women, trans people, disabled people, young people watching their future narrow. So much that felt like progress is unraveling.
In a time when anxiety feels this heavy, the evening carried something else too—maybe the holiday spirit, maybe something deeper. A sense of goodwill. Of people wanting to connect, to be human together, to practice care in small, tangible ways.
Many of us were women, but several men were there too, fully present and engaged—and their participation mattered. Community feels stronger when it’s shared, when care and attention aren’t carried by one group alone.
A Question Worth Sitting With
And holding all of that, there’s also a question worth sitting with.
We looked like a kind, welcoming, genuinely inclusive group—and yet, we remain limited in who finds their way into our spaces. The room was limited in who it held—racially and generationally. From homeschooling my children in mixed-age groups, I’ve watched what happens when older kids model for younger ones: patience deepens, leadership emerges naturally, learning becomes collaborative rather than hierarchical. Different racial backgrounds bring something equally essential: cultural knowledge, different historical experiences, perspectives shaped by realities I don’t live. Both are necessary for a truly resilient community.
If curiosity and care are truly at the heart of what we’re building, what else do we need to do to make that visible, accessible, and inviting across these lines?
I’m still figuring out what needs to change. But I know awareness without action keeps us stuck, and action requires first admitting where we fall short.
Community building is slow, imperfect work. But evenings like this remind me why it matters—and how much possibility still lives there.
Gratitude
Thank you to Ellen for making this gathering possible—for the careful planning, the gentle reminders, and for embodying what community building truly means. Your leadership holds this group together.
Thank you to Lisa for opening your home with such generosity and warmth. Thank you to Cindy for creating beauty that made us all pause and smile. Thank you to everyone who showed up with cookies and open hearts.
And thank you for those cookies themselves—they became vehicles for connection, gifts I could share beyond the room where we gathered.
That’s resilience in action. That’s the community we’re building together.
—Emma Medina-Castrejon
Emma is a content creator and storyteller with Transition Town Greater Media, capturing the small moments that build resilient community—the conversations, the connections, the care we practice together. Follow her work at @emmamedinacastrejon
About Transition Town Greater Media
We’re building a more connected, caring, just, and resilient community in Greater Media through initiatives like community building events, the Media FreeStore, and The Green Wagon—our local native habitat restoration project that brings neighbors together to heal the land we share.
Want to join us? Follow us on Facebook and Instagram, subscribe to our newsletter, or come to our Annual Planning meeting on Saturday, January 10th to help shape the year ahead.
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