losing our farmhouse, eating too much pizza, and why inconvenience is a good thing

People will often ask me if the beautiful, antique farmhouse that I am in, in the Walking With Purpose promo video, is actually my house. And the answer is, "Yes. Yes it WAS."

And when I say "was" I truly mean it, as in the past tense form. As in, not my house anymore. As in, we were evicted.

Ok, so evicted is a really strong word and not exactly true. We were renting the home with the hopes of buying, until we were presented with a price. A price, that considering the house was 4 million years old, with crooked wood floors adorned in holes and exposed nails, a dirt floor garage, powder dust beetles in all of the beams, a scary laundry room buried under cobwebs a flight down in the basement, and what we all think might have been a ghost....well....we were forced to find a new place to live. Fun fact: (and by fun, I mean horrifying) while filming that promo, my sweet friend, and WWP Founder and Chief Officer, Lisa Brenninkmeyer, who was just loving the house, insisted, "Oh, Laura, this house is amazing...you can never move!" Meanwhile, my husband, unbeknownst to us, had already learned of our "not so ideal situation", but was waiting for after the filming crew left to tell me, the smart man that he is. So, while I was filming, feeling fabulous, in that fabulous farm kitchen, with my fabulous hair...because really, hair and make up did one heck of a miraculous job on me...my poor husband was feeling a little less fabulous, on line in the next room, desperately searching for our new home. Thirty days after that video was filmed, the farmhouse of our dreams was empty. A year later, it still is. And so, let's just chalk that one up to another opportunity for the Phelps family to manage our disappointments. An entirely other subject that I could fill pages and pages on. But can't we all?

A real perk to that house, besides the infestation of mice and poison ivy, in case, ya know, those things are perks to you, was Franco's, the pizza place, practically across the street. During our intense and stressful move, which we did all on our own and I do not recommend, unless you enjoy having a daily nervous breakdown, that pizza place came in real handy. My family eats a pretty substantial amount of pizza when our kitchen belongings are not packed in boxes. So yeah. We eat a lot of pizza. And as the year went on, we got to know the owners of Franco's pretty well.

When our pizza friends learned that we were moving, and to the other side of Newtown (If you know Newtown, you understand that Newtown is huge), they literally said to me, "Oh, we won't see you anymore!" And I was all like, "Say what? Of course I will still come here for our pizza! Don't be crazy!" But the owner went on to explain that, "where you go for your pizza has to do with convenience", and that there were plenty of pizza places much closer to where we were moving to.

Just last week, I walked into Franco's to place an order. Two seconds into the door I heard a loud and joyful, "LAURA!!!!" From the young girl behind the counter, from the young man at the brick oven, from the waitress clearing dishes at the table by the window. My two feet were not yet in the building, and I had already been given a personal, and warm welcome. I had already been called by name. I had already been made to feel like I had been missed. I had already been made to feel like I was someone they were happy to see. In short, I felt loved and pretty darn special.

We have been in our new home for a year now, you know.

And the owner of Franco's? Well. She was right.

There are many pizza places much closer and way more convenient, to this new house.

And with four kids and a mini van schedule I wouldn't wish on anyone, I am all about convenience.

But guess what?

I am more about relationship.

I still go to Franco's.

I never stopped going.

I make the long drive.

And sometimes there is traffic.

But I still go.

Not because they have the best pizza I have ever had in my life.

Not because they are the cheapest, either. Because they are not.

And certainly, not because they are convenient.

I go, because they know me.

I go, because they are familiar.

I go, because it feels like home.

I go, because they know my name.

I go, because there, I am loved.

You see, here is the thing. Sometimes relationships aren't convenient. In fact, the good ones? Those are rarely convenient. Good relationships take work. Good relationships are about giving more than receiving, listening more than talking. They are about extending your hand. Going out on that limb. Pouring that cup of coffee when you don't feel like it. Sending that invite even though your house is a mess. Good relationships take you to uncomfortable places. They demand that you go out of your way. They ask you sometimes to forget yourself completely. They are not always easy. They are never fair. They require a boatload of forgiveness and a never ending supply of mercy. And there is always some sort of personal transaction, right? An exchange of hearts, a sharing of your deepest self, a joke, a laugh, a shoulder to cry on, a pat on the back, a high five, a kiss on the cheek, a smile or a handshake, a simple, "it's nice to see you." Good relationships are works in progress, always growing, always changing, and be it in a season of beautiful light or unspeakable darkness, you are required, no matter what, to show up. You are required, no matter what, to love.

I walked out of that pizza place thinking.

Thinking about the importance of relationship. The importance of hospitality. The importance of a warm welcome. Of learning a name. Showing an interest in someone besides ourselves. And how if you cut to the core of each and everyone of us, you would find the burning desire, the unquenchable thirst, to simply be known. A desperate and almost painful yearning to be loved.

You know, over 75% of people leave the Catholic Church because when they walk out the door, nobody notices. And I personally know many women who have left their own Catholic Church for another church...one in another town...one that gives them a warm welcome...one that knows their name....one that is not convenient, but "feeds them". One that shows them love. And well, can you blame them? Because I can't.

But I can blame myself.

When we are called to "open the doors of the Church" it is not so that we can let others in on their own; you know, hope that someone will walk by, peek in, and give it a try! We are called to open the doors of the Church, so that we can be sent out, sharing what we know, radiating the light of Christ inside of us, and then...then we are called to find those who are lost and searching, to find those in need of a familiar home, a friend to have coffee with, a hand to shake or a cheek to kiss, and we are called to meet them right where they are, ask them their name, open our arms, welcome them in, invite them over, and bring them back home into the church with us. THAT is why we open church doors. Not so that somebody else can do the work for us, but so that we can do the work that we are being sent out to do, ourselves.

But relationship.

Unless we have a good relationship with Jesus, that will be hard to do, don't you think? Unless we have a good relationship with our fellow parishioners, that will be difficult to do. And so maybe this is something good to think about, and to pray on today. Am I welcoming? Am I inviting? Do I go out of my way to learn a name, shake a hand, simply say, "it's nice to meet you"? Do I know the name of that man I see every single Sunday in the third pew? Have I spoken a single word to that young mom wrangling her three children on the left side of the church? Have I said "hello" to the elderly widow at the 9am daily mass? Do I get up early and take time to pray, go to Mass, take advantage of confession and all of the sacraments....or are those times inconvenient? Is getting up early inconvenient? Is setting aside time for God just too inconvenient? Do I need to bolt out of mass, or can I spare a few minutes to catch up with an old friend in the back of the church, or meet a new friend in the parking lot? Because I gotta believe that the Passion? Carrying the cross that was heavy with our sins? Then being nailed to it??? I am guessing none of that felt convenient. I am willing to bet that was not easy. But our God is not a God of easy. Our God is not a God of convenience. Our God is a God of relationship.

It is time to get inconvenient. With God. With ourselves. And with others. Because good grief. If we, as Catholics, did this? The love would explode. If we, as Catholics, were as welcoming as the owners of Franco's? This would be a much different world.