Last night we spontaneously invited some people over for dinner.
I made a big, 13×9 pan of Tex-Mex lasagna, and at 5:00 when I looked at that big, ol’ thing I decided we needed to share it. Three people joined us, and we had a great evening. Our kids were goofy, conversation was lively, and leftovers were sent home with the guests. And all the food I made was not only edible but yummy, so that’s a plus.
The best part was how seamlessly it happened.
I know it doesn’t always work like that, but I’m thankful that I could easily invite people over without stressing too much about the details. I will confess to suddenly worrying that the food was going to be awful and spot cleaning my rather dirty floor. But I’m glad I thought about asking people to come and then quickly followed through on the idea.
That's part of living in community for me.
Community can be defined different ways, and I consider my extended family, friends who live on the other side of the world, and even people I only know on the Internet to be parts of my community.
But there is something about the people
you can touch, eat with, and live with.
Video chat is amazing but it’s not the same as being able to hug someone or talking face to face.
We live in a compound in Saudi Arabia. My tangible community is limited to the people in the compound or people my husband Stephen meets at work. It is very easy to only spend time with people I like and simply avoid anyone else. I cannot drive here (no women are allowed to drive), so I only go out with my family, in a taxi we’ve arranged with friends or on the compound bus for a weekly grocery trip. Being on the bus is the only time I have to interact with people I haven’t specifically chosen to be with.