I’m not sure who first penned the words “Loneliness feels louder in the season of celebration,” but as I edge closer to another decade of life, I find them to be increasingly true.
There are empty place settings for loved ones who didn’t make it to another holiday. There are broken relationships, unmet expectations, lingering effects of the pandemic, habits of isolation, consequences of sin, and the ache of living far from family. It’s in these very seasons of celebration that loneliness can feel the most pronounced.
Over the past few years, my husband and I have found ourselves with a quieter Thanksgiving Day — and out of that space, a simple new tradition was born.
Each Thanksgiving morning, we open our home for a casual brunch and invite anyone without family nearby — neighbors, co-workers, friends, or extended family who aren’t gathering that day.
What does it look like?
I prepare a few breakfast dishes ahead of time — cinnamon rolls, egg casseroles, muffins, and plenty of coffee. Guests are welcome to bring a side dish to share if they’d like. Through the years, I’ve learned to double the recipes (especially the cinnamon rolls and casseroles!) There’s always enough to send guests home with leftovers — and still have plenty to carry us through the long holiday weekend.
We usually have the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade playing in the background, and I set out a few crafts for kids — and now, for adults too. When a group of people who don’t all know each other come together, having something to do with your hands can be the perfect icebreaker.
I wish I could claim credit for the name, but my brother calls it “Unlonely Holidays.”
Unlonely Holidays
In Charleston, South Carolina, groups now gather across the city each Thanksgiving Day under that same idea. The concept is simple: someone opens their home (or even their apartment), and others can sign up to join based on where they live. It’s a chance for people to connect on a day that might otherwise feel painfully quiet.
Of course, it’s easy to think, “That sounds too hard, too awkward, too complicated—and I wouldn’t even know where to start.” But it doesn’t have to be.
Here are a few simple ways to begin:
1. Pray.
Ask God to open your eyes to just one person who might be alone this holiday season. Sometimes the invitation He wants us to extend is right in front of us.
2. Ask questions.
Don’t assume people are spending the holidays with family. Your neighbor’s adult children might not be coming home this year. Your co-worker might not have a place to go. A few gentle questions about their plans can open a door to connection.
3. Invite clearly and simply.
I like to offer guests a flexible time frame — something like: “We’re doing an open house brunch! Come anytime between 10 and noon; we’ll wrap up around lunchtime.” It sets clear expectations while keeping things casual and low-pressure for everyone.
What excites me most about opening my home during the holidays is that it feels like practice — practice for eternity.
One day, there will be a great celebration — the Marriage Supper of the Lamb — where believers from every generation will be reunited. There will be a table there too, overflowing with good things that won’t make us feel sick or weighed down.
The room will be radiant, lit not by candles or bulbs but by the glory of God Himself. There will be room enough for everyone — from the least to the greatest — and not a single person will be left standing without a seat.
There will be perfect connection. No more loneliness. No more empty chairs or silent tears. No more ache for something better.
That’s the hope we hold. And every time we open our doors and hearts to others, we’re getting a little practice — a small foretaste — of what’s to come. Practice for heaven. Practice for home.
Little Roots Co. 
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