That was me and walking.
Every year my doctor reminds me that, at my age, I need to walk regularly. I knew he was right. I also knew I had absolutely no desire to become one of those cheerful early-morning people out walking before the sun had fully reported for duty.
Thankfully, I am married to one of those people.
My wife gets up early and walks every day, so eventually I joined her. Now, three mornings a week, we walk around our block three times at a moderate pace.
At 6:45 in the morning.
Yuck.
At first, everything about it felt wrong. The early hour. The Texas heat and humidity. Falling out of bed at what felt like the crack of dawn. But after a couple of months, something strange happened.
I got used to it.
Even stranger, I started enjoying it.
Then came The Interruption.
I discovered that while I was out walking for exercise, there was an entire world happening on my street that I had never really noticed before.
People were walking their kids to school. Neighbors were leaving for work. Trash cans were rolling to the curb. Dogs were getting their morning walk. Garage doors were opening. Cars were pulling out of driveways.
And there I was, suddenly becoming the guy who interrupts everybody’s morning.
“Good morning!”
“Have a great day!”
“How are you doing?”
Apparently, I had become the unofficial hospitality committee for Stribling Drive along with my wife.
And you know what? It became fun.
There’s the next-door neighbor heading off to work in shorts and a T-shirt. One morning our quick greeting turned into a conversation about his upcoming surgery, giving me the opportunity to tell him we were there if he needed anything.
There’s the couple across the street who keep their two grandsons during the day. Some mornings we walk and talk together on the way toward school.
There’s the family down the street where both the husband and wife work at the nearby elementary school. He walks early by himself, and we exchange a quick hello. He’s not much of a talker, but I’m working on him.
A few minutes later, his wife walks their two girls to school. After living near them for ten years, I finally learned their names.
Ten years!
Apparently, all I needed to do was get out of my house.
Then there are the people driving off to work who now get a wave from me three mornings a week. There’s the guy taking his garbage out who stops to talk about the new stonework on his house. There’s the couple walking their old dog. There’s the neighbor loading golf clubs into his car for an early tee time.
It turns out there’s quite an adventure happening every morning on Stribling Drive.
I just never knew it.
Sometimes I walk alone, and as I pass each house, I pray for the family living there. I try to remember their names, what they told me, what they might be going through, and what is happening in their lives.
And somewhere along the way, the walk stopped being only about exercise.
It became about people.
That’s what hospitality does.
Hospitality doesn’t require a dining room table, a perfectly prepared meal, or guests coming into your home. Sometimes hospitality happens on a sidewalk at 6:45 in the morning.
It can be a greeting.
A wave.
A smile.
A conversation beside a trash can.
Walking with someone for half a block.
Remembering a name.
Asking about a surgery.
Simply letting another person know, I see you. You matter.
Hospitality is more than a feeling. It’s love in action.
And maybe some of the best opportunities to practice it are already waiting right outside our front door.
I started walking because my doctor told me I needed the exercise.
I kept walking because I discovered my neighborhood.
And now, while I’m out there, I might as well interrupt somebody’s day with a little hospitality.
After all, hospitality is the change our culture needs in a rude world.
