A Knock on the Door
Dear Friend,
It's hard to explain the changes that are taking place, most of them taking root without my intentional thought.
I've always been a planner, as you know. I love a good list. I appreciate the structure of a well-maintained calendar. Yet, living here, I'm expanding. Between impromptu evening walks that turn into hour-long chats on the porch, and the random knock in the morning to join a beach walk, I'm discovering that miraculous experiences can happen in the unplanned.
A storm was rolling through last week. I'd thought nothing of it; I'm no stranger to storms. The northeast taught me the value of stocking the house with essentials to have on hand for a good long while. But I'll say this: storms in the South are different.
The colors in the sky, the cloud formations, the lightning… during a storm, those are all incredible reminders that one should always hold a healthy fear of the natural elements. We're no match for them.
I planned to hunker down at home through the storm; after all, only minor flooding was expected on the island. The rain had started while I was prepping dinner. It fell in gentle patters, the kind of rain you want to sit by the window and listen to.
A knock on the door startled me from my chopping, and I rushed to answer it.
A neighbor stood there on my covered porch. "A few of us neighbors decided to get together tonight for an impromptu dinner and some games. Want to join us?"
I hesitated a beat, but then heard myself say that it would be lovely. She told me to bring whatever I had been planning to make for dinner and to come on down whenever.
I walked back to the kitchen sort of dazed. This was so last minute, so unexpected. I began to worry about the meal I had been about to prepare. Was it good enough to share with others? I'd only been preparing a small meal for myself, not much to share. What else could I do?
So many questions raced through my head. Within a few minutes, I regretted my acceptance and found myself standing in the middle of my kitchen, worrying terribly over what to bring. I felt that familiar pressure, you know the one… the pressure we put on ourselves, the expectations we lay on our own shoulders when we are striving to figure out and achieve what we think others expect of us. The tension crept back into my shoulders. My stress response was running on high.
Somehow the gentle rhythm of the rain broke through. The steady droplets falling with a soft ping on the gutters pulled me back into the moment and right out of my own swirling thoughts. I took some deep breaths and reassured myself that my planned meal was just fine to share. And maybe some of those cookies in the freezer would be good too.
I walked three doors down to my neighbor's house about an hour later, feeling anxious and nervous. When I reached the screened door, I could hear laughter. The house glowed softly, and it looked quite inviting. I called a greeting in and received shouts of, "Come on in!"
Within a few minutes, all of my overthinking and anxiety melted away. The food was taken from my hands with gracious and thankful smiles. A few familiar faces bustled around the kitchen as if they all lived there and knew the intimacies of its layout by heart.
A hodgepodge of food and mismatched plates adorned the kitchen island. I spent the entire evening laughing. All of that worrying, that whole hour of it, seemed silly, and an absolute waste of time.
This unplanned evening turned out to be one of the most memorable nights of my life. Not because anything particularly spectacular happened. But because a random yes to an impromptu invitation ushered in a completely imperfect meal shared with people I barely knew, who, by the end of the night, had become wonderful friends.
Schedules and planning were the way to achieve things, the path to getting things accomplished. And while I still know the measure of truth in that, somewhere along the way someone forgot to teach us all how to leave space in our lives for the unexpected.
I never knew so much beauty could be found in the unplanned. Did you?
Until next time,
—A Friend from Magnolia Isle
