I’m moving this week.
A family from my church has a garage apartment that I’m renting. They’re super people and very hospitable, and have opened their own home to me — not just their garage.

Other people’s hospitality and generosity are often really hard for me to accept. The defiant toddler rears her head and says, “I do it myself!” with her shoes on the wrong feet and her shirt on wrong side out. I’ve been independent for a very long time, mostly out of necessity. I was an only child of divorced parents, so I had few options but to become independent. And now, I live alone (and mostly enjoy it). I go to restaurants alone (not in a sad way, but if I want fajitas, I’m not waiting on anyone to go with me to get some). I went to a concert alone this week. Yet, while I can function independently, I absolutely cannot thrive that way. My soul aches for real connection and authentic community.

The “independence” of my childhood and youth was a thinly veiled wall built out of fear of being let down or hurt. The girl inside yearned for community, but the wall of independence shuttered her inside. People are messy, and it’s just easier to for me to stay here and you to stay there. And we’ll talk over the fence like Wilson and Tim Taylor in Home Improvement. I’ll never know the real you and you’ll never know the real me, but that’s OK because the real me is kinda weird and you probably wouldn’t like her anyway.

As a young adult, I’ve spent a lot of time saying “no”. No, I can’t go out because I’m sleepy (which is almost always true. I like my sleep). No, I don’t really feel very good. No, I’m actually just peopled out and need to introvert (again, almost always true). [Full disclosure: how I have any friends from this time of my life is beyond me. But I do, and they’re amazing]

Saying no feels like self-preservation, but really, it keeps that girl longing for connection shuttered away from the very thing she longs for. From the very thing she’s created for.

A few months ago, I decided to start saying yes to more things. . . more people. . .more chances to have real connections. Or, at the very least, more chances to have fun.

Seeing others and being seen by them does not come easily. But, I’ve laughed deeply more often in the past few months than I have in a long time.
People are still messy, but they’re so worth it.

Peace be the journey.