The other day I had coffee with another pastor. We sat outside Espresso Royale on South Main Street for about an hour, and within that time span, we each saw three-four members from our respective churches. A week later, I made an early run to CVS, still dressed in sweatpants and a hat, no makeup, and alas, there is a church person in CVS at the same time. I had a sermon about grace prepared for the next day. How fitting. On Friday night, I attended an orchestra concert to see some church friends perform, and lo and behold, 12 or so church members seemed to appear from the woodwork. I honestly cannot remember the last time I was in a grocery store, out on an errand, or out for dinner, that I didn’t see someone from my church family.

Mind you, I do not pastor a mega-church. Nor do I consider Ann Arbor to be a small town. What is it about seeing your church family that is different than seeing the parents of your children’s friends, or colleagues, or what not?

I have a theory: Church families, are kind of like real families in that you share life’s big steps with them. Baptisms, confirmations, weddings, and funerals. Announcements of pregnancies, to announcements of terminal diseases. Your church family is the one who gets this big news; they celebrate with you, they mourn with you, they’re just there when you’re vulnerable and when you’re just going through the everyday of life. And so when you see them out and about, away from the Sunday routine, it’s like finding a $5 bill in your pocket. It’s like seeing an old friend. It’s like a reminder that there is a place where you can’t be anonymous, even if you’re dressed in sweat pants and would really prefer to be. There is something about accountability; I’m not talking about moral accountability, but accountability of presence. People will care about your well being, whether you want them to or not. That’s just what church families do.

I moved to the community only a year ago, and for the first six months or so, seeing church family wherever I went was kind of overwhelming. Now I realized I had missed what is truly overwhelming: being in a city with 113,271 people and not knowing a single one of them.

I am blessed to have a vibrant, present, and loving church family, and it is my hope for the other 113,270 of you that you find that sense of fulfillment in your own communities. Ann Arbor is a not a city, but a community. The more families we have connecting, in the everyday; the greeting card aisles, grocery stores, and gas stations, the stronger we will be. I am proud that communities of faith like mine can do their part in making Ann Arbor the community we call home.

Darcy Crain is the Associate Minister at the First Congregational Church of Ann Arbor.