In therapy a few months ago, my counselor referenced all the balls I’m juggling and trying to keep in the air. The problem is, they’re each heavy in their own way. It’s not like juggling feather or balloons; it’s more like juggling weights.

I know I’m not the only one who feels this. Everyone is going through something (or multiple somethings). The journey can be isolating because we don’t want to add our burdens to what someone else is already carrying. It takes courage and accountability to invite someone else in.

I was drawn to the book A Hidden Wholeness by Parker J. Palmer, mainly because it has my word for 2026 (wholeness) in the title. Also, the subtitle hit home: “The Journey Toward An Undivided Life • Welcoming the Soul and Weaving Community in a Wounded World”.

The book was released in 2004, which seems like a lifetime ago. Palmer mostly writes about circles of trust, which feels a little cultish, but that’s not his intention. While it can involve a larger group, it can also be a smaller one – even two people. A circle of trust creates a safe, open space where the soul can show up fully in the company of people who won’t judge or try to fix it.

I’m in awe of the fact that, even though it was born out of pain and suffering, I’ve had the opportunity to live in a variety of places, three “corners” of the country. God has crossed my path with so many incredible people.

I recently reached out to one of these people, a trustworthy friend and mentor I first met about 20 years ago in Washington state. God had put her on my heart, and I felt prompted to schedule a time to chat. It took some courage and vulnerability, as I knew it would be a deep conversation. I had written out my thoughts beforehand to help organize my mind, though I wasn’t totally sure what exactly to discuss or ask.

But God.

It didn’t go as I had planned; it wasn’t what I expected, but it was absolutely what I needed. He used this 30-minute conversation to wake me up, to silence the enemy’s lies, to encourage my weary soul. He used this step toward wholeness to give me a fresh perspective, conviction, and accountability. She prayed boldly over me, welcomed me with open arms, and asked me honest questions. She challenged, corrected, and sharpened me. My spirit was stirred, and a circle of trust was formed.

I’m convinced that we need more conversations like this. We need a safe and trustworthy community surrounding us. It’s been a difficult season for me and my family, but it’s been exponentially worse because we don’t have the spiritual family that we’ve had in past seasons. The village that holds us up. The care of the local church. The support that makes us courageous again. The accountability of faith-filled people.

We are in need of courage and accountability. Which is easier said than done. After a decade of heartbreak in the context of the local church, I am fully aware that this call is difficult. After you find your people, you don’t always get to keep your people. But we keep trying. We keep showing up, bravely, embracing vulnerability and accountability. We keep looking for safe, trustworthy people to share life with.