Fireplaces served as the primary way to warm homes during the winter before boilers, furnaces, and space heaters. For generations, there was a rhythm of preparation established by cutting wood for the winter. Wood cutting remains an embodied way to love our neighbors in our modern age. The labor of cutting, hauling, stacking, and storing firewood demands sacrifice. It is a physical and practical act of caring for our neighbors each winter.

For much of the year, our mailboxes receive little beyond bulk mail circulations and unwanted financial applications. But each December, there is the possibility of the arrival of a Christmas card, a small artifact of attention to relational connection. In an increasingly digital reality, sending Christmas cards to friends, family, and neighbors is a countercultural practice of paper and pace.

On the anniversary of my grandfather’s death, I called my Mom to ask how she was. She said, “People don’t really mention my parents to me anymore. Maybe they are afraid it would make me sad, but I’m already thinking about them all the time.” I began to reflect on the loneliness of grief and how layered the pain can feel when we have no means of sharing it. Shortly after, I came across the ancient practice of observing All Saints Day—a day to honor all holy people who lived faithful lives in Christ. Not martyrs, but those saintly, hidden lives known only to God.

My refrigerator has a feature for families like ours. It beeps when the door is left open over a set amount of time. This is particularly helpful in households with multiple people, especially during lunchtime when leftovers are being brought out and put back in batches. We don’t realize the fridge door is open, so it beeps to alert us. The problem is I often don’t hear the high-pitched chirp. I’m not sure if it’s the tone or the noise of the kitchen, regardless of the cause, I tune it out and keep making sandwiches.

My mother, Marilyn Mackey, called her mother every Saturday morning for 30 years. “We would call to stay connected and know what was going on in each other's lives.” My mother reminds me, “That was when we paid for long-distance calls too.” But the practice of staying connected begins a generation before her. “My mother’s relationship with her mother, Grandma Miller, was that we saw them every weekend. We would go to their house on the farm and have a meal and play games.”

I co-lead a church that meets in our home. We decided a practical and joyful way we could serve our neighborhood was to sponsor the Easter Egg Hunt. Last year, we chose to hand-deliver an invitation to the egg hunt to every house in the neighborhood. We asked the families in our church to contribute eggs, create a cookie decorating station, and hide over 800 hundred eggs!

The text message from my neighbor came the weekend after he and his family moved out. “Can I borrow your mower tomorrow? If not. That’s ok.” He needed to mow his yard before the new family moved in and had already moved all the tools from his garage. “Absolutely. I’ll have the battery charged.” I replied. It was a punctuation mark on two years of lending tools to each other while he lived on our street.

Hundreds of pancakes are served at the Gilley house every other Tuesday morning before students leave for Arapahoe High School. It began for Jill Gilley with a simple question, “What if?”

As I was growing up, the smell of turpentine and the whir of a sewing machine filled my senses. My mom was an artist and my husband David’s mom was a musician. His home was alive with the beautiful sound of Bach flowing from his mother’s piano. Being raised in creative homes, we learned the value of both artist and art.

The ECM model is “adopt-a-block.” Volunteers knock on doors ahead of work days to connect with neighbors. They ask about any external home improvement projects that could be done by volunteers.

Standing in the awkward is the practice that tells our neighbors they are worth our discomfort. On the other side, we may get more comfortable, or at least get more comfortable with being uncomfortable.

Gratitude for delivery drivers cultivates hospitality for all those who serve us in unseen ways.

Asking a neighbor for help is being aware of our needs and one of our greatest needs is to live in community. Asking for help is a practice that cultivates humility in us.

Showing up and saying you love to watch a kid from your neighborhood play sports, at any level, cultivates joy. It is a playful practice of showing love for your neighbors, and builds confidence and connection with their kids.

We must know our neighbors to love our neighbors. Only in doing life together do we make visible the heart of Jesus to our neighbors. Coffee Friday might be the practice for you to get to know your neighbors. Or, replace coffee with something else that might unite your neighbors. I bet on coffee.

The practice of freudenfreude is a parallel practice to empathy. Empathy is feeling compassion about others pain. Freudenfreude is connecting and celebrating others joy.

Summer is a season of consistent unplanned interactions with neighbors. It is an ideal season to practice creating a neighborhood map to learn the names, history, and hopes of your neighbors.

Celebration is central to loving people and place. Always be looking for occasions to write notes of congratulations, give gifts in commemoration, and throw parties in celebration. Practice celebration.

Englewood Grand, selected by Westword as one of “The 100 Bars We Can’t Live Without”, began hosting “Thankful Thursdays”. The invitation was to write a note of encouragement. They would provide the stationery and postage, and serve a great cocktail.