One of the things I’m loving about being in Portugal is witnessing the beautiful sense of community surrounding our newest granddaughter, Zuri.
Shortly after Zuri was born, Sabrina did something incredibly thoughtful.
She put together little gift bags for her neighbours. Each contained a candle, cookies, earplugs (in case the newest resident of the building decided to make herself heard!), and a personalized note in Portuguese introducing baby Zuri. And big sister Amaal had the very important job of delivering a bag to each neighbour’s door.
What happened next was just lovely.
Over the following week, one by one, the neighbours came bearing gifts for Zuri and Amaal, along with beautiful cards welcoming the newest member of their community. A small gesture of thoughtfulness had sparked a wonderful exchange of kindness.
And then yesterday, I experienced another little moment that touched my heart.
Zuri was particularly fussy, so I took her onto the balcony, hoping the fresh air might help her settle.
Across the street, in another apartment building, a group of people were enjoying a party on their balcony.
When they spotted me holding Zuri, or perhaps heard her making her presence known, they waved. I waved back.
And somehow, across two buildings, we had the loveliest little conversation. Without speaking a single word. Just smiles, gestures, laughter, and a shared moment of human connection.
I’ve also been struck by the way pregnant women and people with babies are given priority in Portugal. In queues and everyday interactions, there’s a visible recognition that caring for a little one deserves consideration.
All of this has made me think about what it really means to belong to a community.
We often think community is something we join. A neighbourhood. A faith group. A workplace. A social circle. But perhaps community is also something we create.
With a gift bag left at a doorstep. With a thoughtful card. With a wave across a balcony.With the simple act of noticing another human being.
Belonging doesn’t always begin with a conversation. Sometimes, it begins with a gesture that says, “I see you. You matter. You’re welcome here.” And perhaps that’s what makes these small moments so powerful.
They remind us that connection doesn’t require grand gestures, shared backgrounds, or even a common language. Sometimes all it takes is a little kindness, offered freely, and received with an open heart.
Little Zuri is only a few weeks old, and already she’s teaching her Nima something about the world. It takes a village to raise a child. But it also takes each of us to create the village.
