Crowds are not for me. I don’t like navigating through them, don’t like the weird rushed feeling that I get when surrounded by people, and really don’t like the way I always end up moving against their tides.

This weekend, I was surprised to find that I don’t dislike all crowds. One, at least, has given me a lot to think about, a lot to appreciate. It was the dozens, actually hundreds of people streaming into Snoqualmie City Hall Saturday morning for the Snoqualmie Muslim Association’s open house.

One firefighter estimated at least 150 people were there at around 9:45, representing all ages, down to Cheerios-toting toddlers. My guess would be upward of 300, though, since people came and went throughout the day.

They came into the meeting room, greeting friends and chatting, as if it were any other city event, instead of the reassuring outreach it was at least partly intended to be. This was a meeting for non-Muslim people who wanted to learn more about their Muslim neighbors and their faith. This was a show of support for the Muslim families in the area.

This was a conversation, about God, family, country and every single person’s obligations to each of those things, and to each other.

Wow. As an Army brat, I always like to see this kind of broad acceptance in people, but as a reporter, I’ve learned not to expect it. I didn’t know what to expect at this open house, planned by the association in response to political rhetoric against Muslims, not terrorists. As I already said, I was pleasantly surprised.

I’m never going to be a crowd person, but on Saturday, I came as close to liking them as I probably ever will.

I’m proud, too, that I live and work in a place that has people like those that I jostled (my apologies) and was jostled by in turn as we assembled, each with our own reasons for being there.

I was proud of everyone. Of people like Rifat Mohammed, who bowled me over with her eloquence about religion, leadership and humanity. Like the parents who brought their children to the event, to be in an atmosphere of acceptance. And especially, like the few I saw, genuinely uncomfortable, but willing to listen.