This past week, I wanted to get together with a group of friends I hadn’t seen in a while. But I didn’t want to host. Why?
I am a victim of the Pinterest effect.
When I had the idea of having these friends in my home, my first thought was of the great conversation and laughter we would share. I thought about a fun recipe I could make and how wonderful it would be to reconnect. But my excitement was quickly replaced with dread over the piles of toys, the stained carpet, and the unpainted ceiling.
Before you know it, I’d spiraled into a frenzy over the leaf piles by the sidewalk, the broken entry light, and every other thing I would “need to get done before anyone comes inside this house.”
“What is wrong with me?” I thought. I have a sturdy home, with comfortable furniture, am a wonderful cook, and have gracious friends; why would I allow this to hijack me?
And now you’re wondering, “Why, with everything going on in this world are you talking about this?”
Well, we’re in a divided mess in this country. That’s why. And I believe deep in my heart that healing starts first with us, then our homes, then our neighborhoods, and beyond. In that order.
I have so many opinions in my head about the state of affairs in this country, but one of them is that we lack a true connection with one another. In a way where empathy and kindness lead.
Granted, I have made some amazing connections on social media with people I would have lost contact with and others I may never have met at all. But can it replace the human touch? Can it replace sitting in the space of another? Of exchanging energy and emotion? Of witness heartbreak and pain, of joy and celebration?
It’s funny when I look back on childhood memories and photographs, I never spend much time studying the posed headshots or the photographs of family lined up like bowling pins.
Instead, I look closely at the ones with the visible ephemera of our lives. Grandpa’s truck. The spoon collection on the wall. The Mr. Machine I got as a Christmas present one year. The neighbor in the background who left this earth 30 years ago. A pizza box from the 80s.
Don’t get me wrong, I look at the people, too. But unless it was a charming characteristic, I’ve never considered if they dressed better than others or if their house was decorated by a designer. Instead, I hear their laughter or an endearing phrase they often use, but most importantly the way they make me feel. I think of who they are to me and the other people who love them.
I think of our connection.
And now, human connection is needed more than ever before. Less perfection, more connection.
So as we approach the holidays, I encourage you to connect. Connect with the people you love and like in a way that is meaningful. Bake some cookies or buy some to give. Ask friends over for dinner and only move the pile of papers if you have the time. Put on a pot of coffee or tea and ask a neighbor to sit on the porch for a spell. And be with them…in the moment. Listen to their lives. Hold their hand.
And when you enter into the space of another, look at their face and their heart, not their home. Hear their stories and be their friend.
Welcome one another with joy and celebration and show up without judgment or opinion.
Maybe we can’t change the world, but we can certainly change our hearts.
