A cup of peach tea steamed from the mug that warmed my hands as I sat at my dining room table. Across from me sat a dear of mine whom I've known since kindergarten. I don't have many of these friends I still talk to, but she was one that stuck.
We'd spent the majority of our teenage years through young adulthood in separate states, and for the first time in a long while, we were now living in the same state again... practically even the same city.
We sat there talking about how our lives had brought us so far apart from each other at times, yet now we were both living within 10 miles of each other. She moved back to the state after graduating college 4 years ago and I had just moved back from a 2-year stint in Southern California. As we were catching up on each other's lives, she asked a question I was frequently asked:
"How are you doing with the move back to Minnesota?"
Usually I just brushed off the question with a "It's taking some getting used to again, but it's where I know I'm supposed to be." Which really is the truth. But every time I said that, I cringed at the hidden truth I wasn't telling anyone.

But I was tired of hiding that truth. So I looked at her and said,
"Honestly? I'm lonely. I have pockets of friends I see when I have the time, but I feel like I have no friend group, no community that I can count on."

There it was. My big fat lie I wasn't telling anyone.

I was lonely. And I wasn't the only one. 

"I've lived here for 4 years and I still feel like I don't have a friend group," she replied.
"Really?" I asked, shocked.
"Yeah. I mean, I had my roommates, now two of whom have gotten married. I have my roommate now and my boyfriend. But I still don't feel like I have a community."


Here we are, living in a city of half a million people, with its sister city and suburbs offering up half a million more, yet she's lived here for FOUR YEARS and still doesn't have a sense of community?
And here I was, someone who actually had a past in this city. I still had friends I remained in contact with. Yet when I thought about it, only a small handful I now make it a point to see on a regular basis and an even smaller handful I feel comfortable telling them my heart.

Fast forward another couple weeks and a few more conversations with other friends.
I heard the same thing. Over. And Over.

And I kept thinking: "How can this be? We're living in a city of a million people. Yet none of us feel a part of something, a part of a true group of friends that do life together?"

We think we have friendships, but we don't. 
There is a difference between friends and friendships. We all know those friends in our lives. The ones that we like and if we actually made it a point to spend time with them, we probably would really like them. But because of time, geographical differences, and maybe the chasm created by time apart, they're the friends you see every once in a while, and that's really ok. Then you have people like your roommates, who you are probably either really close with or not close with at all.

A friendship is a true relationship that takes work.

It takes the bearing of souls, the forgiving of mistakes, the time (we could be binge-watching Netflix) we are so protective of, and the caring for each other by simultaneously encouraging and pushing each other towards something greater.

Those are the relationships I craved so desperately. A community of friends that makes it a point to not only just spend time with you and work to get to know you, but to see to it that you're becoming the best you can be, even when you don't want it.

And that work isn't easy. But you know what?

It's addicting.

Really, truly, honestly, it wasn't until I had found that group of friends who pushed me to better myself in every way and love me through it that I realized how much I needed it. After leaving that group of friends behind in California, I craved having those partners in life who pushed me beyond the small-talk topics, pushed me to be healthier, pushed me to work harder and came along side of me through the nitty gritty of life.

Building a community takes time and effort.

After thinking through these conversations I'd had with my friends about missing a community, I realized I couldn't sit back and complain about the struggles of my lack of true friendships. I needed to act, I needed to create, I needed to build. I kept thinking of the quote from Field of Dreams, "If you build it, they will come."

And so I began talking to my friends. What would it take for them to build a community with me?
A few decided not to participate, basically because of geographical and scheduling reasons. But they all supported the idea and wanted to start their own community night. 

So I ended up with a group of 3 friends that have committed to starting building a community with me every Tuesday night.  Then the question was begged, what was I going to do? And I realized I had the answer back in California: game night at a coffee shop. Every Wednesday night was game night at Starbucks. It was just always there. We all knew we'd be there, we all knew that's what we'd be doing. Oh sure, there were times we each couldn't be there, sometimes a few weeks would pass before we could return. And some left our group, but we always somehow found more by accident. And this was the way we started our friendships, the place we grew our relationships and laughed, talked, and grew our community.

So here it goes! An open invite to anyone who wants to join!


What are we doing?It's simple: We are playing games at a favorite local coffeshop, Spyhouse NE, every Tuesday night from 8-11 pm.
Why Spyhouse?
People can come and go as they please. It's a pressure-free area for newbies to come join us. And it gives us a public space which allows us to be visible and inviting for anyone who sees and wishes to join in!
Why at all?
My main purpose in starting game night is to create a community where people can come and get to know one another in a fun atmosphere. My ultimate goal is that those friendships that we create around the table will grow into the deep friendships that I mentioned above. Game night is a vehicle for that to happen. 


And at the end of the day, if nobody shows up, I'm in a coffee shop for a few hours working on projects. Not so bad for me.

Is it going to take work? yes. Am I going to have weeks where I wish I didn't have to show up? Yes. (But I'll be there!) Is it worth it to see God hopefully take this and build this into a community of true friendships? Yes.