Vince Lombardi would famously begin the first team meeting of the season by holding up a football and telling his professional players, “Gentlemen, this is a football.”

They obviously knew what it was. His point was that excellence begins by returning to the fundamentals and nobody becomes so experienced that the fundamentals are beneath them.

Go Forth begins the same way.

Many of us have served our families, churches and communities for decades. Some are just getting started. Either way, rebuilding community begins with the person God has placed directly in front of us.

Can we notice that person? Learn a name? Listen without lecturing? Discover what’s needed? Make a specific offer–and follow through?

Your first stretch: introduce yourself to one person who lives near you but whom you really don’t know. Learn their name and one thing about them.

Don’t mention CORAC, explain the state of civilization or recruit them for anything. Just have a good-old-fashioned human conversation.

Come back afterward with “Done” and tell us something you learned if you feel the need to.

Yeah, it’s painfully basic. That’s where professionals begin.

Glad you asked.

Squirrels are remarkably good at a few things we care about at CORAC.

They prepare before the need arises. They’re energetic, persistent, adaptable, resourceful, and surprisingly good at navigating complicated environments.

They also understand something we tend to forget: small actions–repeated consistently–add up.

One acorn isn’t much. Neither is one edifying conversation, one small act of charity, or twenty minutes spent sharing something useful.

But keep going. Eventually, you’ve built something.

So yes, the squirrel has become something of a mascot around here—a small reminder to pay attention, prepare well, keep moving, and take the next right step.

Also, squirrels are funny.

Not everything needs a theological explanation.

Some members are new to this kind of work. Others are old pros. But experience doesn’t make the fundamentals unnecessary—and activity doesn’t automatically equal accomplishment.

These early exercises may appear simple. That is intentional. They help all of us examine how well we notice people, initiate contact, listen, follow through and invite others into meaningful action.

The rookie learns the fundamentals.

The veteran discovers whether his fundamentals are still sound.

I’ve done most of the posting so far because somebody had to inflate the footballs.

If you haven’t spoken up yet, feel free to share in one or two sentences:

What’s one Go Forthy thing you’ve done recently that someone else could copy?

Nothing heroic required. Small and finished beats impressive and still being discussed.

A specific offer is easier to accept: “Can I fix that gate Saturday morning?”

No speeches. No grand rescue operation. Just one clear offer from one neighbor to another.

Once they say yes, put it on the calendar.

“Soon” has swallowed more good intentions than anyone can count. Give yours a fighting chance.

The difficult part usually isn’t owning the right drill. It’s showing up as promised.

Reliability may not look heroic, but it builds trust one appointment at a time.

Finish the job, clean up the mess and enjoy the small victory.

You didn’t save the world. You made one corner of it work better—and that is how rebuilding begins.

Your next Go Forth job: ask one trusted person for one small, specific form of help.

Maybe you need a ride, an errand run, company at an appointment, help sorting paperwork, a patient hand with technology or simply someone to sit down and listen for a while.

Choose something real and manageable. Then ask plainly. No vague hints, brave little sighs or hoping someone notices your increasingly dramatic struggle.

If the person agrees, let them help—and receive it graciously. Asking is not weakness. It gives another person the opportunity to show up.

Report back with “I asked” or “Someone showed up.”

Community begins when we stop pretending only other people need it.

A ride, an errand, a second opinion or twenty minutes of company is enough. Small asks give relationships somewhere to begin.

Receiving graciously is part of the assignment. Say thank you, release the bag and resist supervising every step.

Needing help does not remove you from the community. It brings someone closer—and may open the door for you to help them later.

You may not know the right person, but someone in your circle might. One thoughtful phone call can make your network considerably larger without adding a single contact.

A community project may already have the idea, the people and the supplies—but no way to move them. Sometimes progress begins when someone remembers who owns the van.

Once the right people are connected, let them get to work. You do not have to lift every box—or offer detailed advice about how boxes were lifted in 1973.

Check back to make sure the introduction became a conversation and the conversation became a next step. This is follow-through, not meddling—assuming you stop before the third call.

A personal invitation gives someone a clear way to step in. One person and one useful job are enough—matching T-shirts can wait.

Working beside someone creates room for conversation and trust. It may even produce something rarer: a finished job.

A shared effort does not have to be ambitious. Start small—the neighborhood renaissance can wait until after lunch.

Perfect skills and equipment are not required. Bring what you have—even if what you have is clearly a pipe wrench.

A finished job may give you a reason to return, but the relationship is what brings you back. Check the planter box if you must—then ask how your neighbor is doing.

You do not need another problem to solve every time you stop by. Sometimes sitting down with a cup of coffee is the useful thing.

Remembering one small detail tells someone the earlier conversation mattered. It also saves both of you from discussing the weather again.

Coming back gives the other person an opportunity to contribute, too. Community becomes real when nobody is permanently assigned the role of “person in need.”

Your next job: find out who is actually within reach —and learn something useful about them.

Choose five and contact each one personally. Ask what skills, experience or connections they could contribute, what limitations they currently face and where they might need a hand themselves.

Don’t recruit them for a grand initiative or conduct a forty-seven-question regional census. Have a real conversation and take a few useful notes. You’re looking for people, possibilities and needs that a list cannot show you.

Report back with “Five contacted” and one thing you discovered about your group.

A list is not a crew. At this stage, it’s mostly names arranged alphabetically.

Names and contact information tell you who might be up for it. A personal conversation reveals the skills, limitations, connections and needs that could turn those names into a working group.

Contact five people personally. Learn what each can offer, what limits they face and where they might need support. No regional master plan required—just five worthwhile conversations.

You’re getting to know a person, not completing an intake form. Ask a few good questions, listen carefully and take enough notes to remember what matters.

Turns out your neighborhood has a broomball walk-on fueled by Icy Hot and pure determination.

Connect the request to something you learned about the person:

“You mentioned that you enjoy talking with people. Would you call these three members?”

That tells them you noticed what they can contribute—and that your first conversation was not merely paperwork with better manners.

“Could you help with outreach?” is fog.

“Could you call these three members by Friday and tell me what you learn?” gives the person a clear task, a finish line and enough information to answer.

Don’t make the first request sound like they’re inheriting a department.

Ask for one useful, manageable contribution that fits their time and ability. A small success makes another yes much easier.

A personal ask should be direct without becoming pressure wrapped in fellowship.

Let the person answer honestly. A no protects the relationship, teaches you something useful and helps you make a better match next time.

Your next job: choose one of the five people you contacted and invite that person into one specific, manageable role.

Explain what you are asking, why you thought of them, how much time it should take and when it needs to be completed. Then let them answer.

Report back with “Ask made”—and, if they accept, name the next step.

“We need help” is easy to ignore. “Could you do this?” deserves an answer.