A Journey of Healing Through Kindness and Community

If there is one thing I consistently advocate for in trauma work, it is the power of community. Healing does not happen in isolation. For me, community is not optional—it is essential. This belief is supported not only by lived experience but by research as well.

In The Body Keeps the Score, Dr. Bessel van der Kolk highlights how connection is foundational to healing trauma. Studies also show that strong community support can predict success in addiction recovery, with participation in support groups reducing relapse risk by as much as 25%.

On November 1st, we were easing into the morning after a long day of Halloween fun—slow coffee, tired kids, and the quiet that comes after celebration. As the day began, I noticed a neighbor driving through the pasture. As I walked toward the front door to greet him, my husband had unknowingly let our dog out the back door.

Our dog ran through the pasture to retrieve one of his favorite “toys”—my daughter’s shoe. Tragically, that shoe was directly in front of the neighbor’s truck. In a heartbreaking moment, our dog was hit and killed.

For the next three days, I didn’t want to leave the bed. I went to work, parented at the bare minimum, and then returned to bed. My dogs and animals are my world, and the loss felt unbearable.

Community Shows Up

What surprised me in those early days was how quickly the community showed up. Neighbors stopped by with food and condolences. I emailed my daughter’s school, and they immediately surrounded my children with love, care, and support. I didn’t have to explain everything—people simply stepped in.

Two weeks later, we attended our annual 15-minute Christmas photo session. It’s usually quick: take pictures, say hi to Santa, and leave. Every year, my kids hand Santa their Christmas lists on the way out. I never read them.

This year, my nine-year-old handed Santa her list. As he began to read it, she started to cry.

Her letter read:

Dear Santa,

I know this is a lot, and it might not happen, but I want a puppy for Christmas. Recently, my dog got hit by a car while trying to get a shoe and passed away. My other dog, Bailey, has never been the same, and I want Bailey to have a friend and be happy.

By that point, I think all of us were holding back tears. Afterward, I told my daughter how proud I was of her for being so vulnerable. I admire her trust in vulnerability—the way she believes it’s safe to ask for what her heart needs. We went for pizza and hot cocoa, then went home and went to bed.

A few days later, I received a message from Ali, our photographer. She shared that Santa had been deeply moved by the girls and had found a puppy he wanted to gift them.

I immediately broke down in tears. The kindness of a stranger—someone with no obligation to us—felt overwhelming. My first instinct was to shut it down. It felt like too much kindness. But then I realized: this wasn’t for me to manage or control. I was simply the middle person. Someone wanted to offer something healing to my children.

A week passed, and I wasn’t sure if it would actually happen. Boxers are expensive and not easy to find. But honestly, the offer alone was already magic. Then, on a Monday—about a week and a half after Ali first shared the message—I received a call from Santa. He asked if he could come by that night. He had a boxer puppy. That moment filled something deep in my soul.

We still grieve. We still talk about Bruno every day. Loss doesn’t disappear just because kindness arrives. But knowing we were seen, held, and loved during one of the hardest moments of our lives—that was powerful.

This is why kindness and community matters. This is why kindness heals. And this is why we were never meant to grieve alone.

A Reflection on Healing

Healing does not mean the pain goes away. It means we are met in it. This experience reminded me that community does not fix loss—it holds it. Kindness does not erase grief—it makes space for it. When we allow ourselves to be seen in our hardest moments, something shifts. Our nervous systems soften. Our children learn that vulnerability is safe. And healing begins not because the story changes, but because we are no longer alone in it.

In trauma work, we often focus on interventions, modalities, and outcomes. But moments like this are a quiet reminder that healing also happens in the ordinary, human acts of care—meals dropped off, schools stepping in, neighbors showing up, and strangers choosing generosity simply because they can.

This is the kind of healing I believe in. Not rushed. Not forced. Rooted in connection.

We will continue to grieve Bruno. And we will also continue to receive love. Both can exist at the same time. And sometimes, it is kindness—unexpected and undeserved—that becomes the bridge between loss and hope.

If you're dealing with trauma, let us help. They are complex and deeply rooted feelings that may seem too much to face. We're here to listen, understand, and give you the tools to move forward. Call or use our online contact form to set up an appointment today.

Did you know?

• Nearly 70% of people in the United States deal with trauma, and it affects everyday life.

• Only about 25% of people in the United States seek help for their trauma.