Sherrie and I have lived on Lost Lane since 1994, when we built our home. Our house is part of an informal community made up of 20 homes and farms that populate a section of county road and the afore-‐mentioned dead end lane. Our neighbors are mostly friendly, and we wave and even say hello on occasion, but we felt for a long time that there ought to be a greater sense of neighborliness among us. In the fall of 2008, we finally took matters in our own hands and delivered invitations to all 20 homes, encouraging people to gather at our place on a Sunday afternoon when the Packers weren’t playing to share a potluck and get to know each other. Much to our delight, 10 of the homes were represented, and everyone confessed that they had been having the same “hankering” to get together ever since they had moved in. We thought we had started something, so we waited for one of the other families to pick up the ball last fall (09). Nothing happened...Fast forward to the spring of 2010 and the opportunity to work on Making Room for Summer. The first impact of engaging with the material Randy (Frazee) and Max (Lucado) were developing wasn’t on my neighbors; it was on my view of my own home. Our three children are grown, married, and we are now delighted grandparents of five. Our home is on frequent occasions the happy chaos of all of us together for special events, but our day in/day out life is an empty-‐nester schedule. I looked at our dining area and saw that our large table that seats eight and can’t be reconfigured had become not so much a place for two to have meals but a resting spot for junk mail and various ongoing projects. In other words, it was always piled with stuff. Two seated at opposite ends of a long table wasn’t appealing, and even sitting next to each other at one of the corners or along one side seemed odd. Meals together had degenerated into TV dinners in the living room while watching the news (depressing food consumed with depressing information). Having guests always involved a major effort to clear the table—which in itself was a dis-‐ incentive to inviting others over.
Just outside our dining room is a large porch with wicker chairs and a small, round table that fits four nicely. I suggested that we put the big table on the porch and bring the small table inside at least for the summer and try making room for meals together. The change wasn’t easy. Losing the now habitual spot to drop things set into motion a lot of other decisions about living (that’s a longer story).
But the first meal by candlelight fixed by a husband on a mission had the desired effect. After an hour of conversation and interaction, Sherrie said, “I wasn’t sure about this, but now I like it!” That beginning hasn’t led to the continual happily ever after result, but we know this is something we’re aiming at.
Next came the conviction that we ought to again reach out to our neighbors. I decided we need to do more than just a once-‐every-‐two-‐years-‐in-‐the-‐fall gathering. So I thought we’d try something called Wednesdays at the Wilson’s and inform our neighborhood that for each of the four Wednesdays in August we would host an informal gathering for supper at our place. No particular agenda other than acquaintance. We made up invitations and biked around the neighborhood and delivered them. Some of the neighbors were out, others were on vacation, but every home got an invitation and we talked to quite a few who remembered our gathering two years ago.
Last Wednesday was our first W@W. One young mother and her three kids (one baby) showed up. We had a delightful time. We prepared a salad bar and the kids loved the variety. We hadn’t met the Mom before other than at the door when we delivered the invitation. I think she mainly appreciated two grandparents who attended to her kids while she ate, but we had some moments of conversation and assured her that we were thrilled with the outcome of the evening. She promised to return and bring her husband (who had had to work).
We realize this whole idea of making room for neighbors isn’t the promotion of instant intimacy or sudden closeness, but there is an unmistakable sense of satisfaction in having attempted something to bridge the gaps. We’re not sure how the other Wednesdays will go, but we’re determined to see them through. Making Room for Summer has already had a lasting impact on our lives (and the lives of others)! (Neil Wilson)
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