The Unglamorous Side of Creating Connection

I am regularly surprised by how unglamorous the actual pursuit of whole, truthful community is. This is after several years of knowing my need to be known, to know, to say, "I hear you, Sister," and mean it, to allow myself to lift up and be lifted up because we all function better that way.

Years. 

And still. Last night, dear friends came over for dinner after a full day of momming two busy, adventure-seeking kindergartners and one tag a long sister. Tim was working, but I had dinner with people I can just be with on deck, and I was going to be fine. 

5 o'clock rolled around, and the dessert I planned hadn't made itself. I was still in a graphic t-shirt that was possibly starting to stink. My hair was a mess. I looked the part of a tired mom. 

At one point during dinner, I could barely hear what my friend was trying to tell me from two feet away. Four kids, having finished dinner and unable to contain themselves, ran around, making all the noise that happy kids make inside an echo-y living room. Another child, not so mobile, talked happily, adding her input occasionally (she was my buoy.)

My husband stood in the kitchen, talking for over an hour with Kindergartner #2's caregiver until he had to head home to start the bedtime process.

So much noise. 

So much for holding out for dinner for that breath of fresh air. 

And yet. 

For a long time, I've imagined my home to be a place where my kids' friends can congregate. Where they know they are loved and cared for and can breathe a little deeper. 

I've imagined the space around my husband and I to be about the same. 

Those dreams are happening, one intentional choice at a time. 

It is loud and messy and draining. 

But I would 100% do it again. 

Sometimes making space for people to be themselves and find connections doesn't leave much time or thought for everything to look put-together, and I'm here to tell you that's really okay. You have permission to not get to it all.  I've had some of my best life-giving conversations in homes where dust-bunnies still hung out on the floors, when dinner wasn't made, or piles of dishes hung out on the counters. 

Holding space for people to honestly connect isn't going to feel perfect, because we are people, and we aren't perfect. If you don't thrive off of chaos, it's going to drain your emotional, physical, or mental energy- maybe all three. Plan for that. 

Today I'm going to rest, 

and then I'm going to plan to do it again because

I promise you, it's worthy work. 

Sometimes, when you hold that wriggly, heavy space for people, you'll find there's space for you, too. 

If you're curious how put together or how great of a listener I was last night, I will tell you- not very. 

My cherished friend, Amanda, actually laughed with delight when I poured out the build-up in my heart space to her. She gave me verbal permission to be the tired, water-treading, stinky mom with the messy hair that I was in that very moment. 

Her actions didn't leave me feeling less messy, but they did leave me feeling loved. Last night, Amanda held space for me to be the unglamorous, floundering person I was in those moments. She let me know I was appreciated for being Sarah, and not just for what I could bring to the table. 

That's what I want to do, too.