Welcome Home

Our new home is situated about halfway down a freshly paved road; trees have been cleared from one side of the newly built neighborhood to the other. All that’s left around us is a deep-hued, jewel-honed sky.

It’s almost as if we live somewhere like Utah or Montana; you’d think the skies with their rich colors and brooding clouds and pink sunsets were actual mountain views. But they’re not. They are simply pockets of condensation that amaze and astound me just about every time I look up.

My family just moved to a new town about an hour and a half away from where we’ve lived for the last five-plus years. We don’t know anyone here, so on the eve of the Fourth of July holiday, we looked around our makeshift dining table (a craft table we’d been using until our furniture arrived) and asked, “What should we do this year to celebrate?”

Firework displays and downtown crowds, even in a small town, felt too big. We were all beyond weary from moving. We needed respite, welcome, and balm for our tired, aching muscles.

We needed something no one around us could give. After all, we’re in a neighborhood of new-build residents, and we’re all afflicted with the same weariness. Too tired to get out most days. Under the gorgeous skies of multiple hues, we are secreting away in the air conditioning because venturing into the 99-degree temps we’ve been having lately feels like a Goliath we can’t conquer.

Even for Georgia, it’s too hot to gather.

But on July 3rd, our family decided that our desire for connection was important enough to try.

Sometimes, “giving it a shot” is all you can muster. So that’s what we did.

We walked across our lawn and asked our neighbors on either side of us if they had plans and if they would want to join us in the backyard for a cookout in less than 12 hours?

To our surprise, they said yes.

Four households—we also invited a couple from three doors down—representing four different stories of origin. We each brought meat to grill, some sides to share, and a simple dessert.

Sometimes, the welcome you want isn’t there because everyone else needs a welcome too.

We learned this year that “welcome around the table” doesn’t need to be fancy or even planned far in advance.

We learned that what little we all had left in our proverbial energy tanks was enough.

Each of us made a small effort to build our own new community—one of connection, new friendship, and hope for the future.

Sitting around the table, we talked about our pets, kids, the towns we moved away from, and our hopes for this place we were learning to settle in and enjoy. Our conversation built a foundation for support in the midst of a crisis. Just a few hours later, one of the families lost one of their dogs who ran away because of the booming fireworks in the sky overhead.

So, our newly minted tribe walked up and down the freshly paved roads of our neighborhood calling out the dog’s name together; we drove the surrounding streets well into the night searching for a scared chocolate-colored dog. (Thankfully, the next day he was found at a nearby business.)

That simple cookout gave us the opportunity to be there for a family who needed friendship and support while their beloved dog was missing. They needed to know that other people cared about them.

It was a night I’ll never forget. I learned that sometimes, the welcome you need is the one you have to give someone else.

Brooke Turbyfill is a freelance editor who helps authors turn their works of fiction and non-fiction into their polished best before they’re submitted to publishers and printers. She writes a Substack newsletter for authors called “On Stories” about how life and writing collide at https://brooketurbyfill.substack.com/. If you need editing services, you can reach her through her website at www.brooketurbyfill.com or contact her directly at brooke@turbowordsediting.com. Brooke lives with a squirrely hound, her husband, and two kids in a small town where she writes regularly for other publications about our longings for connection and community and where we find them, sometimes in the most unlikely places.

Subscribe to receive the weekly Stories from the Supper Table post in your email and download this free resource, 32 Printable Conversation Cards. These cards feature questions hand-selected to encourage lively conversation and build connections around the table.

Do you have a story of your own to share? Check out this post to learn more about the heart behind the series and the link for submissions.