There’s an aspect of community building that rarely gets named – let alone celebrated.
It’s the quiet, persistent work of inviting people, again and again, even when responses are slow, energy is low, or enthusiasm feels uncertain.
I sometimes jokingly call it the art of pestering.
Not the kind that pressures or coerces, but the kind that gently says:
This still matters.
You still belong.
We’re still here.
For a long time, I felt awkward about playing this role. I worried about being “too much” – too visible, too persistent. Over time, though, I’ve come to understand that this kind of relational persistence isn’t a flaw. It’s a form of service.
When a Community Is at Risk
In a professional association I’m part of, our regional committee once found itself on the brink of dissolution. Attendance had dropped. Engagement was thin. There was grief about how things used to be, frustration about what hadn’t worked, and an unspoken question in the air: Is this still worth it?
Nothing dramatic had gone wrong. Life had simply become full.
People were busy.
People were tired.
Energy had scattered.
What brought the community back wasn’t a single strategic intervention or structural overhaul.
It was people stepping forward.
New people offering energy.
Others staying on as mentors and anchors.
And, crucially, people continuing to invite – into conversations, into reflection, into events, into something that still mattered.
It meant reminding members about gatherings.
Following up.
Extending another invitation.
Holding space for honest reflections about the past without getting stuck there.
Keeping an eye on what could still be built together.
Yes – sometimes that looked like pestering.
But always with care.
The Relational Thread That Holds Things Together
Over time, something shifted.
Connections strengthened.
Trust slowly rebuilt.
The web of relationships – the sociometry of the region – became more visible and alive.
Energy returned, not because anyone forced it, but because people felt seen, remembered, and valued.
Trainings began to fill again.
Events became spaces people looked forward to.
New leaders stepped forward.
Eventually, we found ourselves organising larger gatherings and even a conference – something that once felt impossible.
Looking back, the turning point wasn’t efficiency or perfection.
It was relational continuity.
Someone caring enough to keep knocking on the door and saying:
You’re welcome.
Your presence matters.
This community is still alive.
Pestering as an Act of Care
What I’ve learned is this:
Most communities don’t fade because people stop caring.
They fade because people become busy, overwhelmed, uncertain, or disconnected from their sense of belonging.
In those moments, reminders aren’t interruptions – they’re bridges.
They reconnect people to purpose.
They reawaken memory.
They offer a hand back into relationship.
When done with warmth, clarity, and respect, pestering isn’t about chasing numbers or filling seats. It’s about holding a positive vision long enough for others to remember why they cared in the first place.
It’s about choosing the glass-half-full while still acknowledging what’s been difficult.
It’s about staying in the work – together.
Keep Knocking Gently
Community building is rarely glamorous. Much of its labour is invisible, relational, and slow.
But it matters.
So if you find yourself inviting again, reminding again, holding hope when others are weary – know this:
Keep inviting.
Keep reminding.
Keep holding the vision.
You’re not being annoying.
You’re not doing it wrong.
You’re practising a quiet art that keeps communities alive.
Sometimes, that gentle persistence is exactly what allows something meaningful to endure – or re-emerge.
Soulgen 
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