Dropping In

cake batter

Once, at a big all-church meeting, we were talking about how to better form community with one another. I stood up and said I'd like people to drop by my house more often, unannounced. A few people laughed. The facilitator said, "How many people here like drop-ins?" Me and half the room raised their hands. I love the other half, but don't understand them.

I read this great little article about the lost art of dropping in. More than favorite restaurants or parks, more than knowing the fastest route to the grocery store or finding a church, I'm starting to feel at home in Bellingham by knowing where people live. Our homes say so much about us, and it's a profound honor to know someone in that way. If you were to drop by my house today, you might guess a favorite mantra,  "A tidy house is a sign of a misspent life." Or that I've been to the apple farm this week and the fruit flies know it. Or that I'd much rather read than garden.

This week, Wyatt found out where a new friend from school lives. He's so excited about it, and we've driven by a few times. (Stalking?) He feels connected to that friend in a way he didn't before. I got to see Emily and Ricky's new apartment, sleep on their couch, and wake up to all the morning sounds in that little corner of the universe. I've started a trade with a mom at preschool, and Loretta has declared this little guy her "best friend" because she's been to his house. I got invited to join an awesome book club, and we had our inaugaural night at Kelly's house. And Kamille let me drop in with hardly any notice and we had a nice hour at her table while the kids played.

Y trimming things out

In three weeks, we'll move again to the house we (read: Yancey!) have been remodeling. Our sense, unless life surprises us, is that we'll be in that house until the kids graduate from high school. It's crazy to think about it that way. I've found myself saying things like, "Well, I can't host until after we get settled," or other such %$*#. We'll have plumbing, heating, fresh paint, and lots of love. And you are witnessing me saying it here: "Bring on the drop-ins." I hope I have the good sense to quit unpacking or cleaning, put on a pot of coffee, and not apologize for the mess. Life is too short to do otherwise.