The Lost Art of Connection

My husband and I just returned from a mission trip in Kenya, where we spent time working in a school in the Kibera slums—one of the largest slums in the world. Amidst the chaos, crowds, and poverty, I was struck not only by the resilience of the people but by the community we were welcomed into.

Children could be seen guiding and protecting their younger siblings. Teachers, though working with limited resources, radiated joy and poured love into the children they taught. Women worked side by side, stirring a massive pot of rice, beans, and vegetables that would become lunch for hundreds of students. There was nothing glamorous about it, but it was beautiful. It was connection in its simplest form: people showing up for one another.

And it made me pause.

It was connection in the simplest form: people showing up for one another.

Here in America, our version of connection looks very different. We tend to complicate it. Hosting friends or family often becomes a full production. We deep clean the house, plan menus, overthink details, and spend more money than we intended. We set the table just right, snap a few photos, and then collapse into exhaustion, telling ourselves it will be a while before we attempt another gathering.

But I can’t get the image of that pot of food out of my mind, and everything that was able to be accomplished with a simple, warm meal.

And if that kind of joy can be found, surrounded by nothing, why can't it be found in our beautiful homes, neighborhoods, and churches? We have kitchens full of ingredients, living rooms with plenty of space to gather, and more resources than we know what to do with. Yet so often, we hold back. In the process, we miss the very thing our hearts are craving.

Maybe it isn’t about having more to give. Maybe it’s about being willing to give what we already have.

What if we stopped stressing about the perfect setting and started welcoming people into our imperfect, everyday lives? What if connection wasn’t about impressing but about sharing our food, our time, our presence?

The truth is, we don’t need more fancy get-togethers. We need simple moments of togetherness. A large pot of soup on the stove. A walk around the neighborhood. A shared cup of coffee at the kitchen table. These are the spaces where real relationships grow.

Connection isn’t lost—it’s waiting for us. But to find it, we may need to set aside the pressure of perfection and return to something simpler, something more human: just being together.