The recent presidential election confirmed what we already know — politically, the country is half and half; divided; polarized; fractured; split.

Many folks are concerned about the split and how it shows up at work, with friends, or at Thanksgiving. But every day is a little bit of awkward Thanksgiving Day for me where I live. Rural people must navigate the divides since it is harder to post up in a bubble here.

Since the election I have had the same thought many times — now is our time. Now is the time for rural people to share what we know about how to operate in small spaces where we don’t all agree.

This is not an essay asking, “why can’t we all just get along?” We don’t. It is not asking “how on earth could someone vote for her? For him?” We did. It is not an essay excusing awful behavior or opinions. It is about the small things we must do to slowly, slowly eek our way back to trusting our neighbors. This essay is about making things better by “joining the local pothole committee”— in other words, doing something small that’s nearby with other nearby folks.

I believe we are looking for a few things: trust, belonging, purpose, and meaning. Sure, that sounds abstract but what it means is this: I feel safe, I belong to a group, I have something to do, and I understand why.

Trust doesn’t mean agreeing on everything. For me in a small town, trust means my neighbors and I probably voted differently, and we both know the other will always stop to help change a tire.

Belonging is how we survive. I heard social psychologist Jay Van Bavel say in an interview recently we are the decedents of decedents of decedents of people who belonged. The people who didn’t belong to the group were eaten by the saber-toothed tigers or died of a minor infection.

Belonging is something we share with others, and a lot more folks need it. That means helping others belong. It means moving from a tight knit to a looser weave that includes folks up and down our streets and throughout our communities. It means seeing who’s not at the table and understanding why and for how long.

I believe we also are looking for purpose.

My dad told me when I left home and when he retired were both difficult at first because he didn’t feel useful or needed in the same way. It took time to reorient outside family and work, but now he’s busy growing vegetables for his neighbors, helping an immigrant neighbor remodel his house, and hosting a weekly jam night downtown.

Like my dad, I think most of us need direction, a place to put our time and talents, and something to do for and with the group. My dad is doing the small, purposeful things that are nearest to him with the people nearest to him.

I believe when we have trust, belonging, and purpose we get meaning.

I get a lot of meaning from my “local pothole committee”— the Cove Community Association (CCA.) We host community events like the Cove Cherry Fair, Tree Lighting, clean-up day, and self-defense and NARCAN classes.

These things aren’t political, but they are meaningful. They slowly create the thousands of threads that bind us and make us belong to each other. Yes, community meetings can be long and boring — I don’t always want to go to CCA on the first Monday of the month. But I show up and I leave with my cup filled. We aren’t sitting around just drinking beer, talking about shows or complaining about politics. We are making things together. We are together working beyond ourselves.

I see a lot of efforts to bridge the divides with big dialogues or efforts to just explain “these people” to “those people.” But I think every unit of change must be measured in relationships. With relationships we can call each other to better things; we can hold each other accountable; we can change and move forward; we can invite and include more people; we can find the oh-so-elusive common ground (aka the potholes.)

The big things we must do will take a lot of us and a lot of trust. If we start by building trust, belonging, purpose, and meaning in doing the small, pothole-like things, we can become something different than we are now.

Nella Mae Parks is a farmer, parent, and rural community organizer in Cove, Ore.