As soon as you enter Utah medical center Sacred Circle through the main door, you feel as though you have arrived somewhere different. Not frigid walls plastered in posters you will never come across. Rather, you’ll smell someone’s child surreptitiously snatching a snack in the corner, see local art, maybe hear a baby giggling at the nurse’s ridiculous dance.

Here is a spot where community shows up in the building’s skeleton. Following graduation from college Juiced boxes and homework cease in the waiting room. Annette at the front desk is aware of which patients would rather have red licorice than peppermints. Birthdays are spoken about, and if you’re lucky—no matter your age—you could even walk out with stickers or two.

Unlike flinging bread crumbs and expecting birds catch them, Sacred Circle does not drop kindness from a distance. The bread and butter is partnerships. Doctors and nurses sit side by side with parents, senior citizens, teenagers. Three staff members volunteered to arrange a ride the following day when one patient experienced vehicle problems. That is roots, not only medication. The calendar of the clinic also is dotted with neighborhood activities. Drives for the flu vaccination, health fairs with face paint, even wellness evenings combining medical information with storytelling. While you wait for your appointment, a neighbor might teach beading. When someone shares a family recipe in the next room, appointments seem less lonely somehow.

After Sunday worship, information runs like gossip—honest, open, relentless. No hiding frigid facts under language. The actual response is “What’s in the shot?” “Is this safe for my uncle?” receives actual conversation instead of a shrug. If you have questions, time exists for them. Someone else has gone through your nervousness before. Just tolerance and, maybe, a dad joke for good measure; no guilt, no dismissiveness.

And food—not even started at all. Someone is always planning a dinner for people on little income. You leave the clinic carrying not just a prescription but more than directions. Usually there is a bag of groceries, perhaps an invitation to a nearby support group, and at least one person bidding farewell as though they would really be missing you.

The brilliance of Sacred Circle is making health care personal, like weaving a quilt from all the tales, smiles, and concerns people bring in front of us. Of course, you will locate medication. But now, tomorrow, always you will also discover warmth, connection, and a hundred reminders that matter.