I have a confession. There are people I’ve wanted to invite over for months. Not acquaintances but friends! And neighbors. People I genuinely enjoy and would love to spend more time with. Sometimes I’ll even picture the whole evening in my head. I’ll imagine everyone around the table, the kids running through the yard, one more cup of tea after dinner...
And then I never send the text.
I could definitely blame my baby’s nap-time and bedtime schedules conflicting with theirs, or convince myself the house needs to be cleaner, but deep down, I know it’s something else. In fact, I don’t think it has much to do with hosting at all. I think it has everything to do with people pleasing.
Somewhere along the way, I started believing that inviting someone over was asking too much of them. Like my invitation was somehow an inconvenience instead of an opportunity.
What if they’re tired? What if they’ve had a long week and just want to stay home and watch tv? What if they don’t really want to get in the car? If they have kids, is that too complicated for their schedule? The more I thought about it, the stranger it became because when someone invites me over, I never think… “I can’t believe they’re asking me to drive 20 minutes”.
I think… “That sounds wonderful”. I feel included and thought of. So why do I assume everyone else experiences my invitation differently?
I’ve actually been wondering if this started decades ago. As a kid, I’d nearly cry if I inconvenienced the teacher. I was pretty sensitive looking back and never wanted to disappoint others. As an adult, I think that instinct evolved into people pleasing. Without realizing it, I became someone who was always trying to make sure everyone else was comfortable before I considered what I wanted. Even if what I wanted was simply to spend time together.
Living in New York a few years ago almost hid this part of me. Now this was pre-kids so life in general looked so very different. Community felt almost automatic. Maybe we’d walk. Maybe we’d take the subway. Maybe everyone was already out doing something anyway. Now almost every invitation feels like asking someone to get in their car. And for some reason, my brain translates that into asking too much.
But if we want community, someone has to make the first move. Someone has to send the text. Someone has to say, “Would you like to come over? Go on a walk? Have coffee? A playdate?” and for some reason, that has always felt vulnerable to me. Because getting in the car somehow feels like asking more than walking a few blocks ever did. My people-pleasing brain translates a 20 minute drive into a burden.
But lately, I’ve been asking myself more and more… “is it really though?” When I drive 20 mins to a friend’s house or a restaurant, I don’t think about the transporting there. I think about the conversation we’ll have and the catching up we’ll do.
So why have I convinced myself everyone else is measuring the inconvenience instead of anticipating the connection?
The more I think about this too, the more I realize that nearly all of the changes we’ve made to our home so far have been about creating places where people can belong. Maybe that's why I've been so drawn to porches, breakfast nooks, big dining tables, and corners made for lingering. Maybe I wasn't just designing a house but maybe I was trying to design more opportunities for connection.
But as beautiful a screened-in porch can be, it doesn’t build community. An invitation does.
Community feels more precious than ever but our lives are busy. Calendars are full. It’s easier than ever to just stay home and scroll or choose a Netflix series instead of reaching out. It makes me wonder how many friendships are waiting on one person to be brave enough to send the first text.
Sometimes my Dad will show up at the door completely un-announced and it is one of my favorite things ever. I never once thought, “I wish he had texted first.” I just feel incredibly happy he’s here. He just bypasses that step and it’s the greatest thing ever.
Maybe that is what courage looks like in this season of life. Not hosting the perfect dinner party. Not waiting for your dream house projects to be completed first. Maybe courage looks like risking the possibility that someone might say no because you believe the possibility of them saying yes is worth it.
So, this week, I’m going to give myself the permission to be the one who invites. Permission to believe that people don’t come to inspect my home but to spend time together. Permission to believe that what makes people feel the most welcome is never the house but me willing to open the door.
If any of this sounds familiar to you, maybe we can try something together. If there is someone you’ve been meaning to invite over, send the text this week. Coffee, a walk, popsicles with the kids, dinner. Community has to start somewhere. Maybe all it’s waiting on is one person willing to make the first move.
Shelby
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