What Happened When We Built a Sukkah in Our Front Yard

I have learned something after being married to Keith for all these years.

When he says, “I’ve been thinking…” there is a very good chance I’m about to be involved in something I did not plan.

And, if I’m being fair, there is also a very good chance I’ll be glad I said yes. This week was no exception.

It started with a Disciple Daily event at Lone Oak celebrating Sukkot—the biblical Feast of Booths. Keith helped turn our outdoor Meeting Place into a Texas-sized sukkah, giving our guests a memorable place to eat, laugh and learn how this feast remembers God’s provision for Israel in the wilderness and points forward in His BIG story when He will do it again.

That same evening, 7,000 miles away, our daughter Jennifer—who lives in Jerusalem with her husband and their two boys—was sitting in a sukkah with her family, invited by a Jewish friend to celebrate with them.

Texas and Jerusalem. Two booths. One very old story.

Sunday morning Keith was sitting in church when apparently another idea arrived.

Sukkot lasts for 8 days.
Why celebrate it for only one night?
So by Sunday afternoon, he was building another sukkah.

This time in our front yard.

I had what I can only describe as an imaginary Mrs. Noah moment.

You’re building what? Right here? Where all the neighbors can see it? And exactly how are we going to explain this?

But I took a deep breath, trusted the husband God gave me and headed for the kitchen. Because if you put a sukkah in your front yard, somebody better have something to eat.

We hung lights. Added child-made paper chains. Put out chairs, coffee, cold drinks and snacks.

People came.

Friends came the first night. The next morning we moved our regular 6:30am Bible reading outside and friends joined us. And before long, the neighborhood walkers started stopping too.

“What is this?”
“What are you doing?”

One woman told us she drove past, went home and Googled sukkah because she had to know what was happening in our yard.

We even met neighbors who’d lived down the street for ten years—and somehow it took a sukkah for us to finally meet.

A couple stopped on their walk, stayed awhile, and we discovered they were full-time singer-songwriters who loved the Bible but knew little about the appointed feasts. Naturally, we challenged them to write a country song about Sukkot :)

A Jewish man and his wife saw Keith’s Instagram post and drove over. Before long we were sitting under the tarp hearing his remarkable story of eventually coming to know Yeshua, Jesus.

A Ukrainian grandmother who had fled the recent war to live near her daughters came one morning just to sit with us. Back in Ukraine, she had served among Russian Jews as a Christian, and with her broken English she wanted us to know how deeply she loves the Jewish people. Who would have imagined that story would find its way into a sukkah in our front yard?

One more surprise: a white pickup slowed to a stop in front of the house. One of the men called out that he was a Messianic believer, the traditional Jewish fringes—tzitzit—hanging at his waist.

We met a retired Army dad. A mom with twins. A retired professional soccer player who hadn't stepped inside a church since he was a boy. A 60-something woman driving down the street to take care of her 90 year old mother in assisted living. And so many more.

All kinds of people.
All kinds of stories.

And we hadn’t gone looking for any of them.

We weren’t knocking on doors. We weren’t handing anything out. We weren’t trying to manufacture a spiritual conversation.

We simply sat outside.

When someone stopped, we said hello. We asked where they lived. We offered them something to eat or drink.

They asked the questions. “What is this?” “Why are you doing it?” “What does it mean?”

The sukkah created curiosity.
Curiosity created conversation.

And those conversations gave us the privilege of sharing a little of God’s story—and eventually talking about what matters most ... "do you know Jesus?"

This week reminded me why practice belongs in the middle.

I had studied the Feast of Booths in Leviticus 23. I had helped teach about this God appointed time.

But until I sat in a homemade booth in my front yard and watched strangers become guests, I don’t think I fully appreciated what could happen here.

Turns out, sometimes the unusual thing is exactly what opens the door to a new friendship.

And for the record, our new friends now think we’re normal.

Well…mostly. :-)

– Alice

P.S. And just like Mrs. Noah, the rain came too. Friday is the last day of Sukkot, so we’re hoping the skies clear for one more evening in the sukkah—with pizza, of course.