Early on in my time in Rwanda, I was blessed with the friendship of a woman I’ll call “B”. B is one of the kindest, most Jesus-loving women I have ever met, and the Lord saw fit to bring us together in a way only he knew I needed.
B’s kids were just a few years older than mine, solidly in all-day school, while I was traipsing around with a 6-month-old and a 3-year-old. I was drowning with a smile on my face. It was obvious to most people around me and, if it wasn’t, I would very openly tell them. I was massively struggling with culture stress, postpartum anxiety, and the loss of identity that came with moving across the world to a vastly different life. I didn’t know who I was or how to function with joy and purpose in Rwanda.
B’s family moved every few years to new posts by design. She already had a few countries under her belt by the time I met her. She knew what it was like to find yourself in a new place. She knew what it was like to raise little kids in a developing country and how it felt to question God’s leading on the hard days. She knew what it was like to struggle with whether or not this overseas life was best for her kids. She knew.
But you know what convinced me? What really made me feel seen and understood?
The first time B invited me over to her home, she led me to her living room. Her kids and my daughter were at school, leaving us to entertain my son, Shepherd, who was under a year old. This typically meant I didn’t get a lot of meaningful socializing done. He was very cute but very needy (and still is!). I didn’t have high hopes for quality time.
As we sat down on the sofa with some coffee, B pulled out a fabric box and plopped it down in front of Shepherd. She proceeded to pull out baby toys and books and stuffed animals—things her children had clearly outgrown but she kept around to serve and love on the young ones that found themselves in her home. Shepherd was so happy to see new things to play with, and I was able to have a meaningful conversation for the first time in months. I couldn’t get over the thoughtfulness. Obviously, years later, I still haven’t! I actually keep a “baby box” in my home now for exactly this reason. It’s so sweet to see my kids get it out when they know little ones are coming over.
That day, B showed me hospitality by seeing where I was and meeting me there. She knew my season of life well, and she knew how to love me well in that space.
When we meet people where they are, we show them Christ’s abundant and perfect love for them in the midst of their imperfect, messy lives. We show them that his presence doesn’t wait for them to have it together. We show them that he cares deeply about the small things in their life, and he sees them exactly where they are. What a gift!
What are some ways you could meet friends in your community where they are?
Drop off a meal if someone is sick.
Offer to watch someone’s kids for a few hours, just because.
Invite a new family at your church over for tea.
Start a family-friendly Bible study and hire a babysitter for all the kids.
Gift hand-me-downs or old toys, if appropriate.
Leave flowers at someone’s home if they are in a hard season.
Organize a babysitting/date night swap with another family.
Start a drop-in mom’s club for mothers of kids younger than yours and offer encouragement.
Bring a bag of puzzles and books to a family with sick kids.
Offer meals and showers at your home to a family who lost power/water.
Invite a single friend to join your family movie night.
Have a family sleepover with another family—put the kids to bed and the grown-ups get quality time!
What ideas would you add to this list? How has someone met you right where you are?
