“What are the cookies for?” my husband asked as he picked one up from the counter. There were only a few left. All the others had been packed into tidy cellophane bags tied with baker’s twine.

“The neighbors,” I replied. “I’m tired of waiting.” I had started thinking that neighbors coming over to introduce themselves was something made up for TV. Like choreographed dances at prom. I got tired of being a stranger in my own neighborhood and had decided that morning to take charge. To welcome them to know us.

We were newly married, and at our very first base, Whiting Field in Milton, FL. At twenty-two years old, I was just beginning my long career of being “not from around here.” I didn’t know how to navigate life as a newcomer, and honestly, I thought it would be easier. Sitcoms and movies had trained my mind to believe when someone new moved into the neighborhood, everyone flocked over with casseroles and baked goods.

When I arrived in Florida, a scene that is familiar to military spouses began to unfold. While Derek went to work, and was immediately integrated into purpose—I stayed home, unpacking, putting in job applications, slowly finding my way around town, and inching toward new friendships.

My heart longed for community—not just friendships with peers, but to know and feel belonging among the people living on all sides. So, after waiting several months for neighbors to come introduce themselves—I pushed aside my narcissistic desire to be sought out, got out the mixer, and packed the cookies. Inside each bag, I tucked a small slip of paper with Derek and my phone numbers on it.

Then, I knocked on each door in turn. “Hi, I’m Amy. My husband and I moved in a couple months ago. Sorry it’s taken so long to come introduce myself. We’re so happy to be in the neighborhood. Our phone numbers are inside, let us know if you ever need anything.”

This became my practice. Base after base. Town after town. There was no malice behind the lack of baked goods and casseroles. People were busy. People assumed we didn’t want to be bothered. People were shy, and hesitant to make the first move. I get it. It’s much easier to be the door opener, than the one doing the knocking. But, this taught me one of the most valuable lessons of my life: The fastest way to move from stranger to neighbor, from isolated to integrated—is to take the first step yourself. There is no shame in making the first move.

Building relationships is vital to thriving in a place where you don’t have deep roots. In my nearly 15 years of experience, I can assure you, it doesn’t matter how the relationship starts—just that it does. It doesn’t matter how you learn your neighbor’s names, just that you do. When you invest in others, you immediately stop being a stranger and a foreigner. You become part of the community. You become a neighbor.

With the holiday season beginning, reflecting on the many deliveries of cookies, jam, and bars I’ve delivered over the years seems especially appropriate. Gathering the courage to make the first move opened literal and figurative doors for friendship and belonging. We’ve been invited to holiday meals, and when we aren’t—we become the ones to do the inviting.
Holidays can be lonely. But they don’t need to be. Building community doesn’t need to be complicated. It doesn’t require waiting until your home is Instagram-ready, or having enough space. It just requires a little backbone, willingness to seek someone who may also be looking for a place to belong, and a desire for togetherness. The rest always seems to fall into place.

If you’re not from around here, here’s my challenge to you: Make a move. Introduce yourself to a neighbor. Join a book club, Bible study, or service organization. Take charge and move yourself from stranger to neighbor as the year draws to a close. You can do it.

For more stories of not-from-around-here life, and inspiration for creating a life you love and positive mindset, join me on Instagram @amy_alleder and Facebook @amyallenderblog.