Twelve

So, the point is people show up.

Stooping is a thing we do because it brings us goodness. We sit out there, and people show up and we feel loved and noticed and known and connected. It's all about us. We'd be lonely without it.

We talk about stooping, because who doesn't want to talk about the things that make us feel like tomorrow is possible? 

It turns out though, that all our stooping evangelism has an unexpected outcome: people know to show up.  

We love a lot of people. It's not a sure thing that it's reciprocated so we keep it on the down low. And one of the couples we love texted just before seven tonight to see if there was stooping. They hadn't stooped before (well, that's not true - we've boat stooped with them a hundred times, but never street stooped) and were nearby and wanted in on the action.

They pulled up, full of second guessing - "we're crashing! we should go. we're sorry. we'll go get wine." Nope. Pull up, sit down and wait for the shit show that is daily life chez nous to settle down enough for cheap wine to be found and a bag of chips opened.

Turns out that life has taken yet another turn for the awful for them this week. Turns out cheap wine and shitty salsa and an hour on the stoop takes the edge off. They left feeling less hopeless for a few minutes.

And us? We were just weak with gratitude. For them and their friendship, but also for the good fruit that comes from a good gift well-enjoyed.  We didn't invent the stoop - we've just enjoyed it. And as we've been fed by the friendships that have grown there, we get to pass it along to a few others and that makes us feel all kind of rich.

Tonight we go to bed like millionaires; friendship millionaires, again.