It was a normal weekday which means I was writing at my desk in the laundry room and I hadn’t changed clothes from the sweats I had slept in and Maile was writing at the dining room table and Gregory Alan Isakov was probably playing on one of the speakers. It was a normal weekday which meant there was much to do and little time to do it in—certainly no time for showering or looking presentable or putting away the dozens of shoes that a family of eight accumulates inside the front door or sitting and talking. Only barely enough time for hot tea and writing and taking the dog out. And writing.
This was such a beautiful read. We love a random person at our door but it definitely doesn't happen often! It's about hospitality too and letting people in, even if we weren't at our best. A good reminder to keep my house open to others! ✨
A beautiful post, Shawn. How delightful to have lived in close proximity to family in a place of unlocked doors and welcomed drop-ins. Relationships are what make life rich, but today's hectic pace and our penchant for screens seem to take precedence over face-to-face encounters over coffee or iced tea. Your description of the friendship you enjoy with Ned (and Leslie) offers a glimpse of the joy such relationships offer. You are so right: "We can’t keep living these lives simply passing one another by." We are missing MUCH.
Thank you. This has been on my heart for some time now, and I’m so grateful to see it’s been on yours. Praying for all of Leslie’s loved ones. She sounds like a wonderful woman. 💚
Oh, Shawn, this essay languished in my Inbox because I was afraid of the tears it would bring in the reading. When I finally clicked through today to read it, of course there was weeping. Of course. What a lovely tribute....and oh the fruit of Leslie and Ned's (and yours and Maile's) borne out of such friendship.
A rich, rich recollection and reminder--making space for the casual dropping by... it needs to make a comeback, agreed.
How sacred it is to visit with those on the perimeter of eternity. I have been blessed to experience that closing chapter with several family members. For that, I am so grateful.
I too miss the days of the unexpected drop-by. It feels like we have lost something profound in the fading of that practice. Always having to ask permission to break into the real ordinary messiness of the lives of people we like or love or need or enjoy or whatever—I don’t know…it feels like an erosion of security. Maybe that’s just me.
I miss the drops in too, the "we were in the neighborhood" visits. My grandkids will never know the "now who could that be?" feeling when the doorbell rings and the panic clean-up while your mother walks slowly to the door. "Oh, it's just Aunt Freda," and everyone relaxes.
I’m convinced my life’s primary calling is to weep, and this essay had me weeping. I, too, remember days of just dropping in unannounced. When I moved to MD as a young adult, got married and began doing this same thing, my husband and I squabbled over it. I thought it was what everyone did until he questioned me on it. Then, I wondered if it was a Pennsylvania thing. Twenty years have gone by, and I still want to drop by unannounced and want others to feel the same freedom. Let’s be those weird writer/artist people who counter-culturally keep up this habit, shall we?
Gosh, thank you for writing this.
(Also, I bought his illustrated saint books a few weeks ago. Good, good stuff!)
This was such a beautiful read. We love a random person at our door but it definitely doesn't happen often! It's about hospitality too and letting people in, even if we weren't at our best. A good reminder to keep my house open to others! ✨
Shawn, this is a lovely reflection.
A beautiful post, Shawn. How delightful to have lived in close proximity to family in a place of unlocked doors and welcomed drop-ins. Relationships are what make life rich, but today's hectic pace and our penchant for screens seem to take precedence over face-to-face encounters over coffee or iced tea. Your description of the friendship you enjoy with Ned (and Leslie) offers a glimpse of the joy such relationships offer. You are so right: "We can’t keep living these lives simply passing one another by." We are missing MUCH.
Thank you. This has been on my heart for some time now, and I’m so grateful to see it’s been on yours. Praying for all of Leslie’s loved ones. She sounds like a wonderful woman. 💚
Oh, Shawn, this essay languished in my Inbox because I was afraid of the tears it would bring in the reading. When I finally clicked through today to read it, of course there was weeping. Of course. What a lovely tribute....and oh the fruit of Leslie and Ned's (and yours and Maile's) borne out of such friendship.
A rich, rich recollection and reminder--making space for the casual dropping by... it needs to make a comeback, agreed.
Yes! Love this. On a much lighter note this is a great stand-up piece about this topic: https://youtu.be/5CznoAW2k1I?si=igeAAXN6FRqUtY86
How sacred it is to visit with those on the perimeter of eternity. I have been blessed to experience that closing chapter with several family members. For that, I am so grateful.
Oh, Shawn, this is beautiful. Thank you.
Leslie. 💔💔💔
I too miss the days of the unexpected drop-by. It feels like we have lost something profound in the fading of that practice. Always having to ask permission to break into the real ordinary messiness of the lives of people we like or love or need or enjoy or whatever—I don’t know…it feels like an erosion of security. Maybe that’s just me.
I miss the drops in too, the "we were in the neighborhood" visits. My grandkids will never know the "now who could that be?" feeling when the doorbell rings and the panic clean-up while your mother walks slowly to the door. "Oh, it's just Aunt Freda," and everyone relaxes.
I’m convinced my life’s primary calling is to weep, and this essay had me weeping. I, too, remember days of just dropping in unannounced. When I moved to MD as a young adult, got married and began doing this same thing, my husband and I squabbled over it. I thought it was what everyone did until he questioned me on it. Then, I wondered if it was a Pennsylvania thing. Twenty years have gone by, and I still want to drop by unannounced and want others to feel the same freedom. Let’s be those weird writer/artist people who counter-culturally keep up this habit, shall we?
This is beautiful. Thank you for sharing.
Beautiful. It’s a little early to make me cry, though.