At my vacation home community, the conversation on the tennis court most Mondays centers on the same topic – weekend guests. Everyone has something to say about the guests who have left, those who are coming, and the ones still in residence.
One recent Shabbat, on the anniversary of his bar mitzvah, a young man with autism chanted Torah at our erev Shabbat service. I've been thinking about it since, and was genuinely moved by the whole experience.
Jerusalem is overrun with stray cats. Most of the week, they hang out on sidewalks and hide under parked cars, but on Shabbat they lounge in the middle of the street, baking in their patches of sunlight, daring you to move them or for a car to disturb their well-deserved nap.