In the fall of 2002, we moved our mobile home from the country property on which it had stood for 15 years, into town. It’s weird, living in the same house but seeing a different view out the windows. Our first night, I rose at some point to use the bathroom. Seeing a bright glow in the distance, my muddled brain feared the barn was on fire. A closer look revealed the big lighted sign at the Co-op. We were townsfolk now.
It was especially confusing for our two college kids who weren’t around for the move. When they came home at Christmas, they were immediately transported “home” when they walked in the door but stepped into a different world when they went out. The closest they ever got to Narnia. It didn’t help that the trailer was turned ninety degrees from the way it had previously sat. We were forever gesturing in the wrong direction when telling stories.
We’d been in the mobile home for a month when I decided to take a huge leap out of my comfort zone. Christmas was coming. I would invite all the neighbors on our street to a come-and-go open house! What better way to meet people?
I picked a Saturday afternoon from 2:00 until 5:00 just before Christmas and designed colorful invitations which I delivered to every home on our street. Not wanting to pester people by knocking on doors, I placed the invitations in mailboxes. “We want to get to know you!” the invitation proclaimed. The event would be casual and non-threatening.
Then I spent two weeks baking, cooking, cleaning, and decorating. I informed the kids, even the ones home from college, that they were expected to hang around for the event. I wanted our neighbors to meet us all.
When Saturday came, Hubby and the kids pitched in to help. We rearranged furniture to maximize space, set up board games, and covered the table with treats. At 2:00, we were ready. Twenty minutes in, no guests had arrived. I agreed the kids could start playing board games but they weren’t to get into the snacks. By 3:00, I caved. They filled their plates and began chowing down on cheese balls, crackers, pickles, veggies, cookies, punch, and hot apple cider.
“This is great. You should have the neighbors in more often, Mom,” our oldest said around a mouthful.
Smart-aleck.
Eventually, someone did come to the door. By the end of our allotted time, a total of seven neighbors had shown up and introduced themselves, representing three homes out of twenty. Some even came bearing goodies and gifts of their own. Unfortunately, none of them came at the same time as any of the others. And offering booze hadn’t even crossed my tea-totaling mind. Lamest. Party. Ever.
I felt disillusioned. In hindsight, I needed to ask myself, “Would I have gone?” If I’d received a random invitation in my mailbox from someone on my street whom I hadn’t met, someone who claimed they simply wanted to get to know me, how would I have responded? Most likely, I’d be filled with suspicious questions. What’s their angle? What are they selling? A pyramid scheme? Some product I don’t need? Religion? I can’t blame my neighbors.
Hospitality is not my number one gift. In truth, it’s pretty far down the list. That should never be an excuse, though. Several places in the Bible tell us to practice hospitality if we wish to call ourselves followers of Jesus. What better time than his birthday to open your home to others? I hope yours is filled with joy and laughter as you get to know one another better this season.
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