‘‘What are you doing tonight?” is a phrase I’ve heard my friend Lynnette say more times than I can count. We met our senior year in high school but didn’t really get to know each other until college, where we became best friends. Lynnette and I have been through a lot of junk together. She’s the absolute only human who knows all my secrets. And she’s always had an uncanny knack for knowing when I need company—whether I say so or not.
All grown up and years beyond college, Lynnette’s a married mother of three. Several years ago she and her family moved out of state, but until that time we were together more often than not. I’m not talking about the two of us doing girl stuff. We did some of that, but mostly Lynnette embraced me as a part of her family. She would invite me over even after her craziest days of driving the mom taxi and cooking dinner and doing laundry and running errands. It didn’t matter what was going on in her life; she still took time for mine.
None of my evenings at Lynnette’s house ever looked the same. Sometimes she cooked and sometimes we just ordered pizza. I remember nights of homework, playing with the kids, watching movies, or helping with baths. It never really mattered to me. I just loved being in the midst of a family.
Although I would guess it was the farthest thing from her mind, Lynnette is the one who first taught me about true, authentic community. About what doing life together really looks like. I don’t remember lots of other details of what we did through all those years, but what I do remember is how Lynnette made me feel. And that is what challenges me to want to do the same for others.
It wasn’t about a spotless house and a perfect meal and keeping me entertained. It was about loving me.
You may have sensed God nudging you to open your heart—and maybe even your home—to someone. The perfect time may not be when everything is just right. The perfect time may be right now.
By inviting others in to do life together, you could change your little corner of the world. Lynnette inspired me to look beyond waiting until my house is perfect and the menu is just right. I really don’t have to be Martha Stewart. It’s about relationships. It’s about loving others. It’s about accepting and being accepted. It’s what we’re made for.
Until next time,
Signe

Have you ever had an identity crisis? A few days ago at a football practice, I was answering a question that I have answered hundreds of times before: “So, what do you do for a living?” I answered, “I develop small-group discipleship materials for a Christian publishing company” and we went on in the discussion to other topics, mostly about our children. After some time to reflect, I am realizing that this conversation has occurred numerous times and I’m never quite comfortable giving the little word or phrase that people expect to hear. Should I have just said, “I’m an editor” or “I’m a preacher” or “I’m a former missionary” or something altogether different? I must admit that I identify with some of those titles more than others, in ways that bring me varying amounts of comfort. But should I really be comfortable packaging myself so neatly with any of them… and why does this seem to matter so much to men anyway? A lot more questions where those came from!
One of the really cool ministry times of the year from my international days was Christmas. Small groups would come together to rent hotel space (though it was illegal to worship together) and invite their friends and neighbors to evangelistic Christmas parties. Homemade tracts were crafted and could often be blended in with the commercial Christmas items that were becoming more popular. Perhaps most effective of all were the special acts of service performed in the name of Jesus during the Christmas season. It was indeed a special time of year, even in a place where Christmas didn’t show up on the calendar officially.
