While others were grumbling and complaining this week about the epic winter storm that blanketed half the nation, I was busy learning valuable lessons, and frankly, having the time of my life. Not only was I enjoying the beautiful views of my neighborhood blanketed in a mantle of white, but I was also savoring the opportunity to connect with those around me in a unique and meaningful way.

How often do we wave to our neighbors as they pass by but never take the time to truly connect? This snowstorm offered a beautiful opportunity to do just that, to slow down and connect.

After the shoveling was complete, my husband, Blain, looked at me and said, “Are you ready to go sled riding now?” To which I hastily replied, “I sure am.” Fortunately, we live at the base of a ridge with a wonderful sledding bank right beside our house. It took a few trips down to get the path packed just right, and Blain painstakingly worked on building up the sides to keep us going straight. Once we realized just how good the hill had become, it felt only right to share it. Since some of our neighbors don’t have such a grand sledding hill, I sent a quick text inviting them to enjoy our perfectly packed path. The reply came back almost instantly: “Heck yes–we’ll be right over!”

What followed was pure winter magic. We took turns giving each other a big push, cheering as riders went faster and farther down the hill. Soon, another neighbor arrived with his three children, and the good times kept rolling. Even my poodle, Murphy, took a few adventurous trips down the hill. By then, Blain had a bonfire blazing, and suddenly it felt less like a backyard and more like our very own mountaintop winter resort.

Another neighbor pulled in and stopped over to see what all the commotion was about and before long was sailing headfirst, belly-flop style, down the hill. We were just thankful his righteous beard didn’t get caught under the sled! By the end of the day, ten of us from the neighborhood had taken turns sledding down the hill and trudging back up to do it all over again.

With all that fun came a lot of snow gear, and a lot of wet hats. It turned into what I now fondly call a “four-hat day,” as I kept swapping them out once they became soaked. Between sledding sessions, we took turns warming up inside, tossing gloves and scarves into the dryer. By the end of the day, our dining room was filled with hats, coats, snow pants, gloves, and scarves spread out everywhere, all drying and waiting for the next round.

One neighbor even arrived the second time with a container of chili in hand, which I gratefully accepted and carefully stored in my outdoor refrigerator, also known as the nearest snow pile, to be enjoyed later.

As the afternoon went on, it became clear that this storm was creating moments like these far beyond our sledding hill. My heart was full as I watched videos pouring in of my grandchildren enjoying the snow as well. Each experienced it in their own unique way. In Philadelphia, where hills are few and far between, my three-year-old grandson, Luca, was sledding down snow-covered church steps, while my construction-vehicle-loving grandson, Connor, was busy moving snow from one place to another with his front loader. Our Mechanicsburg grands went careening down hills, giggles and screams ringing through the air.

I was equally moved watching yet another neighbor take his snowblower from driveway to driveway, especially helping his older neighbors, making sure everyone was plowed out. It was something he didn’t have to do but chose to do. It lit a fire inside me. What more could I be doing for my neighbors? It’s so easy to become self-absorbed in our own to-do lists that we forget to notice the needs of others.

By the end of the day, it felt as though I had lived several days in one. Surely, I couldn’t have made all these beautiful memories and learned so many valuable lessons in just a single day, but indeed, I had. I fell into bed exhausted, with an achy back, a full heart, and a renewed desire to work harder at forming lasting, meaningful connections with those around me.

As Mr. Rogers once said, “Neighbors are people who are close to us, and friends are people who are close to our hearts. I like to think of you as my neighbor and my friend.”

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Rhonda S. Kelley is the executive director of the Juniata River Valley Chamber of Commerce.