Carrying on a Porch Tradition: Chili, Neighbors, and a Chance to Love Well

When we moved into our new neighborhood this year, we learned something that made us smile. The family who lived here before us—dear Christians who loved their neighbors well—had a simple tradition every Halloween: before the trick-or-treaters came through, they’d gather everyone on the porch for chili and cornbread.

Apparently, it wasn’t just a few neighbors who came by—it was the thing to do on our street. Parents would stop by with crockpots, kids would grab a quick bite before heading out, and laughter would spill off the porch right into the street.

Our family hasn’t really celebrated Halloween in the past. It’s just never been a big part of our rhythms. But when we heard about this neighborhood chili night, something about it struck a chord. Not because we suddenly wanted Halloween to be a bigger event for our family, but because it felt like a ready-made opportunity to do what we do want to be about: gathering people, encouraging them, building relationships, and—by God’s grace—making space for the gospel to be known in small, ordinary ways.

So this year, we decided to carry on the tradition.

We invited everyone on our street—about ten houses in all—to come over at 5 p.m., before trick-or-treating begins at six. We’ll make a big crockpot of chili and a sheet pan of cornbread, and we’ve invited each neighbor to sign up to bring something: toppings, drinks, paper goods, or sides. People love to bring something, especially when they don’t know everyone yet—it gives a sense of belonging and purpose right from the start.

We’ll set everything up on the porch to keep cleanup simple, and to make it easy to be right where the neighborhood action is when kids start coming by. I love the thought of neighbors bumping elbows over bowls of chili, meeting for the first time, sharing about their kids, or laughing over how quickly the candy disappears.

We don’t need to make Halloween a big deal to make neighboring a big deal. This is just a small, tangible way to live out Jesus’ call to love our neighbors as ourselves—to show hospitality, even (and maybe especially) on a night when our street is already full of people.

I don’t know exactly how it’ll go—how many will come, or how many conversations will happen—but I do know this: God doesn’t waste open doors. Or open porches.

A Scripture to Remember

“Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others.” — Philippians 2:4

Hospitality isn’t always about having the perfect setup or serving the fanciest meal. Sometimes it’s just about making space—about saying, “Come sit with us,” and letting God do what only He can do through simple, shared moments.

A Prayer for the Porch

Lord, would You use our porch as holy ground?
May bowls of chili and cornbread be the means of grace You use to draw hearts together.
Help us see our neighbors the way You see them—image bearers deeply loved by You.
Let laughter echo as a sound of Your goodness,
and may our home be a small reflection of Your great hospitality.
Amen.