It has been fantastic to hear back from a bunch of friends about car choices. Not only is it helpful to hear their experiences with a large decision, I feel linked to them. The illusion that John and I are on a desert island trying to figure this out is disconcerting. When I open my eyes enough to see the expanse of people sorting through the information too, it almost feels like a party. 

Almost any of life's difficulties are softened with companionship. Solo sailors crossing the pacific notwithstanding, we are wired for connection. 

Last summer, we had a marriage group that really hummed. For reasons I cannot explain, eight couples decided to cram it into their full lives, and showed up. Sometimes it meant eating dinner in the car, or arriving straight from work. But it was real. There was not the commonality of age to unite us, nor even shared history. Two couples were retired, and two still had to manage childcare. But other things brought us closer. 

The pastor's office where I work is trying to address this. There is a mom's group starting up, where children are welcome, and women can share what's percolating in their lives. I am part of a camp for young children, which will invite them to sing, do projects, play games and eat watermelon for five days in the sun. There is a conversation exploring fresh ways to gather in medium-sized groups, to eat together and explore topics that matter to them. John and I are inviting couples to give attention to their marriages for ninety minutes a week. 

Maybe if we poke holes in the illusion of isolation, we will all have more fun.