from: a gingerbread party in the park

Last Saturday, my friend Lydia and I were walking in the park when we stumbled upon a Christmas Party. The long tables underneath the portico were lined with tacky plastic tablecloths and open pizza boxes. The attendees sported their most outrageous Christmas attire. As we walked by we both wondered how they all knew each other, envious of their celebration. Work? College? We continued on our walk and left the park to grab coffee down the street, easily forgetting about the party we passed. The sky was crystal blue and the day felt years long in the best kind of way.

As we walked by the party again on the way to our cars something in me wondered, what if we just…ya know…joined them? Emboldened by the glorious weather, I grabbed Lydia by the arm and walked us up to the portico.

‘Hey!’ I stammered. The guy standing in front of me in a blue sweater adorned with a giant snowman stared at me expectantly. When I realized he was waiting for some explanation as to why this random girl and her friend blazed up to him I forced out, ‘How do you guys all know each other?’  

I couldn’t think of anything else to say but what I was thinking. Any pretense he assumed I had, was imagined. My curiosity was as pure as it comes! I was just along for the ride.

‘We’re all just friends!’ he exclaimed. ‘We have tons of food. You guys are more than welcome to hang out and join a team!’ 

Lydia and I wasted no time making ourselves at home among the group. We marveled at each team’s gingerbread house, complimenting their marshmallow shutters and candy cane walkways. Two guys had even made a pool in their backyard out of graham crackers and icing! The last team we reached was clearly struggling. Jokingly we tossed out ideas to them of what we could see their house becoming. The two of them stepped back and practically handed us the icing bags. An hour later the four of us were bopping to Justin Bieber’s Mistletoe and scattering hard candies as we rushed to finish before time was up. Some of the party goers definitely thought it was strange two random girls had invited themselves to this party. But for the most part, people seemed glad we were there, chuckling at the humor of it all. 

We didn’t win the gingerbread contest; I don’t even think we got a single vote. As we left one of the guys turned towards us and offered us his number. Any weirdness had disappeared. Lydia and I were also quick to mention we’d just moved to Nashville, a smart comment to make when feeling out of place. People instantly stop trying to figure you out when they realize you’re just trying to figure you out! This guy clearly got the memo fast. 

“You both just moved here. Everyone needs friends in a new place. Let’s all hang out sometime.” 

Lydia and I jumped to put our numbers in; neither of us totally certain if we’d all do something but flattered by his kindness. 

I’ve found I often count myself out of something just because no one gives me an official invitation. I count myself out as an author or a songwriter because no one is knocking on my door everyday asking me to write songs for them. I count myself out as someone’s friend because I am afraid to reach out and see if they want to get coffee sometime. I’m sure everyone counts themselves out of something! 

One of my best friends back home in Charlotte, I met because she showed up at a college ministry event I was a part of. She was new to town and needed friends. She told me a few months later over coffee, ‘I almost didn’t come that first time. I sat in my car and almost left because I was alone and didn’t know anyone who’d be there. I was scared.’

That was three years ago. If she’d left and let fear call the shots, nothing in her life would look the way it does now.

There may not always be an invitation to show up somewhere and find your place in this world. But sometimes we have to pull up a chair and muddle our way through the awkward beginnings to get to the hearty middle. The places where there’s no doubt in our mind we belong.