Making Friends in Your 30s: Baby Steps, Open Doors, and a Lot of Trusting God
Honestly? I should’ve titled this:
One Woman’s Journey to Making Friends in Her 30s — The Highs, The Lows, The Drama of It All.
Because whew, this has been a journey.
Community Used to Be Easy
Growing up in Kenya, community wasn’t something you worked at — it just was.
Every weekend, someone would show up unannounced. A family friend. A relative. Kids would play. Adults would laugh over tea. Neighbors would watch out for each other’s kids and exchange Christmas cards.
It felt easy. It felt safe.
Fast Forward to Now
Wife. Mom. Living an ocean away from my family.
And “chosen family” feels like something from another world. I haven’t quite figured it out for myself yet. There’s been plenty of tears. Plenty of prayers.
I have a best friend I love like a sister, and I’m so thankful for her. But there’s also this ache for something more.
For a group.
For a community.
For people to go to brunch with, or take a silly, over-the-top vacation with.
I’ve met plenty of people. But for a long stretch of my adult life, I never quite felt like I had a seat at the table.
Especially the “Church Table”
You grow up believing church is where you’ll find your people. That kindness and generosity will be the default. But… sometimes it’s not.
I spent years in ministry spaces where I felt invisible at best, used at worst.
(One day I’ll tell the full story about being in ministry school and the female preacher I admired who invited me over — to clean her apartment. Scrubbed her bathroom floor. She never paid me. Never spoke to me again. Still confused by that one.)
For a long time, I blamed my shyness.
But healing teaches you: not everything’s your fault. Sometimes it’s just people being people. Fear, comfort zones, bad leadership — it happens.
But that doesn’t mean you have to stay stuck in the ache.
Choosing a Different Way
So now? I’m trying to live differently.
I’m learning to be the kind of friend I needed. The kind of neighbor I wish I’d had.
The one who stops waiting to be invited and starts opening the door.
We bought a table with extra seats on purpose.
Derek and I made a little commitment: twice a month, someone comes over. We feed them. We share life. We let them see the mess.
I’ve stopped worrying about whether people will like us, or the food, or the decor.
For the Record:
They didn’t love the food?
At least they got a free meal.
They didn’t click with us?
At least we opened the door.
They didn’t invite us back?
Jesus invites me. Every day. That’s more than enough.
Baby Steps
This isn’t about being impressive. It’s about being faithful.
About opening what we have.
Trusting God to fill in the rest.
Sometimes it’s tacos.
Sometimes it’s just coffee and conversation.
Either way, this is how we’re trying to stretch beyond our comfort zones, make space for others, and let our home reflect what we believe:
God made us for each other.
Not just for convenience.
Not just for the highlight reel.
But for the messy, faithful, ordinary kind of community that takes time to build — and tends to grow best around kitchen tables.
Romans 12:13 — Share with the saints in their needs; pursue hospitality.
Hebrews 13:2 — Don’t neglect to show hospitality, for by doing this some have welcomed angels as guests without knowing it.
Gratitude Over Guilt
We’ve been graciously received by God.
So we open our doors in gratitude.
Not pressure. Not perfection. Just presence.
We’re still figuring it out.
But for now?
You’ll find us here — showing up, opening up, Taco Tuesday after Taco Tuesday, trusting God to keep weaving something good.