Community.

Something about having a second kid has made me more hospitable.  And by hospitable, I mean, somewhat desperate for community.  I wouldn't say that I am necessarily a lonely person.  I actually crave alone time--but I am one of those people who loves living life with other people. I was obsessed with living on campus during college.  I loved community living. I adored the fact that I shared a shoebox-sized room with my best friend--and that our best friends lived directly across from us--only two feet away.  I loved that more best friends lived down the hall and that I could walk past their rooms at any given time to see what they were up to. I thrive in community.

David and I fell in love with our college experience, and so my huh-knee thought four years on campus wasn't enough.  He decided to get his Masters Degree in Higher Education (he wanted to stay on a college campus forever!), and because of that, we got to live on campus for our first four years of marriage while he managed a residence hall--after already living on campus for four years of undergrad.  There's something we just love about being connected--and so we stayed at college.  Granted, we had our own "apartment"--we weren't living in a small room--but we still were living in a residence hall. There is just something so fun about going downstairs to the coffee bar knowing you'll run into at least a few people you know.  Not to mention, it's totally acceptable if you're wearing your pajamas. There's always something to do, there's always someone to talk to.

There have been several times since we've been married that we've contemplated how to get "communal living" back into our lives.  We got the chance to live with our spiritual mama and poppa for a few months when we first moved to Nashville.  We had hour long talks around the dinner table, sipping wine, and telling stories.  We laughed, we cried, we came alive. We talked about how in Europe they have an activity we lovingly nicknamed the "Slow Food Club" where they take an entire day to make dinner together and slowly eat each course, keeping one another company, and living life together.

What's happened to America?

My friend just said yesterday "I think women miss out on not going to the well to get water or going to the river to do laundry. We're so isolated in our own houses doing our own thing."  My thoughts exactly.

I just finished reading a book called 7 by Jen Hatmaker.  This is one of my favorite passages from her book. She is contextually talking about community and hospitality--of having people over for meals instead of always meeting somewhere and dishing out big dough and feeding the "consumer" machine.

"So yes, eating is still a starting player, but being in each other's homes, cooking, and sharing food together is delightful.  Eating a meal in a restaurant is one thing but friends paddling around barefoot in your kitchen and chopping carrots for your soup and sipping their coffee on your deck is another creature altogether.  This exits the expediency of consumerism and enters the realm of hospitality.

There is something so nourishing about sharing your living space with people where they see your junk  mail pile and pee wee football schedule on the fridge and piles of shoes by the front door.  Opening your home says, "You are welcome into my real life."  This square footage is where we laugh and hold family meetings and make homemade corn dogs and work through meltdowns.  Here is the railing our kids pulled out of the wall.  This is the toilet paper we prefer.  These are the pictures we frame, the books we're reading, the projects we're undertaking--the raw material of our family.  It's unsanitized and truthful.  We invite you into this intimate place, saturated with our family character.

Maybe this is why hospitality was big to the early church.  Living together in the sacred spaces of our homes is so unifying.  When our Christian forerunners were persecuted and misunderstood, when belief in Jesus was dangerous and isolating, they had one another.  They had dinner around the table.  They had Sabbath together.  They had soft places to fall when they traveled.  Safe in the home of a fellow Christ follower, they could breathe, pray, rest.  What a gift."

And so this all makes me think.  How do we get this back?

And authentically.  Not superficially manipulated--but organically.

Nashville is all about cows, and farms, and music, and family.  That's why I moved here. And yet, like most other places in the U.S., it can still be isolating. And there is still an identity crisis looming through the streets. Probably because of the isolation. (And because of the Franklin-ite haircuts--you only know if you live here. Just think Ryan from this season of the Bachelorette. And, no, I don't watch that show. Geez. Lame.)

Anyway.........

Community.  Whose with me? Who will let their guard down? Be vulnerable enough to let someone in.  Even when you haven't cleaned your oven in two years. (That's me).  Come on over......we can clean it out together--and then make some dinner..........