Ang Aking Ama.

My dad used to push aside bills and papers on the kitchen table and invite people into our home for a glass of iced tea and conversation.

It didn’t matter what our farmhouse looked like—everyone was welcome.

I think our world has lost that art of hospitality.

I know I have.

For many years, I worried about the look of my home. I didn’t let people in unless the kitchen was picked up and the floors were clean, and (spoiler alert) that rarely happened, which meant I rarely let people in.

But slowly, I’m lifting barriers and letting go of unrealistic expectations.

Especially this week.

We just moved out of our home.

Turns out, five people have a lot of stuff to move.

I’m mentally and physically exhausted.

But when our next-door neighbor stopped by with warm zucchini muffins and a quick conversation, I let her in without hesitation. When she gave me a hug and said she would miss us, I broke down and cried.

When we realized our storage unit had no more space to hold our belongings, we called a friend to ask if we could put a few boxes and random things in his shed.

He offered his basement instead.

When I knew I couldn’t move one more box, we called another friend who helped pick up the last few heavy items.

We could do it alone, sure. But it’s so much better when we open our doors to others.

And maybe that’s what we’re missing today.

There’s something special about real, raw, messy connections. That’s where the magic happens, I think. When we come together and share our hard stuff, we’re building more than connection; we’re building community.

And I think we can all agree this world needs more community.

I didn’t know it then, but Dad did. Real connections are made around kitchen tables and through open doors.

Let them in, friends. No matter how messy it may be.

- Leslie Means