Come In, The Door Is Open

I was feeling pretty good about myself the other night.

We had invited someone over.

Arms welcoming a friendship from years ago - we just lost touch - and now, we touch hands again.

My house was spotless.  We had worked extraordinarily hard.  Even surprised The Boy with The Tidy.

And I had baked fresh cinnamon buns, timed to be ready upon their arrival.

The coffee was freshly ground; a favorite roast.

Napkins matched the 'coffee and cinnamon buns' theme.

Quiet music played.

Picture perfect.

The door burst open and shyness quickly faded with the "it's good to see you" and the "you haven't changed a bit" and I'd forgotten how easy it was to share life and conversation with them.

As the evening progressed, we got beyond the casual things and started to share our hearts about our teenage kids residing under our roofs. 

Funny, it's these kids that have brought us together again.  In a good way.  ;)

We talked and talked about wanting positive things for our sons and daughters- good friends, good influences.  Godly friends.  Godly influences.  And we laughed at the spider web of friendships that our kids share - you know, our kids are friends with the 'offspring of our friends' from both near and far and 'who knew' and 'how did that ever happen' but 'I'm so glad it did' and 'we've known those people our entire lives' and 'now our kids are friends' and 'you're kidding' and ..... just feeling blessed that these kids have, somehow, ended up with some amazing people in their lives and, as a parent, how could you be anything but grateful?

And then they talked about how it has become tradition in their home that on Friday nights, teenagers start gathering in their home after school and they stay there until it's time to go to youth group and then they all pile in their cars to get them there.  They said "it's a mess when we get home from work; backpacks piled everywhere.  People everywhere."

And....she said.....

"We always make sure there is Kraft Dinner and hot dogs and Ichiban noodles in the house for them to eat."


I've been thinking about that all week.

Kraft Dinner, hot dogs and Ichiban noodles.

Messy backpacks.

Lots of people.

Every Friday night.


All of a sudden, my (for once) tidy house and fresh cinnamon buns faded into the background of my mind.


I don't think it's about the tidy house and fresh cinnamon buns.  I'd like to think it is.  I'd really like to think that I can be occasionally gifted in the hospitality department because I can make a pretty decent cinnamon bun and can set a pretty table when needed.  I actually DO invite people over.....when it's convenient and when it doesn't stress me out too much.


I've been doing some reading about Hospitality lately and it is challenging every preconceived thought that I've had.  Today, I scrambled to write down this quote:

"Hospitality isn't about a home

or a physical table

or food

or any of that.

 

Hospitality is about love.

 

It's about loving other people;

The rest is just trappings."

 

She Reads Truth

 

I am learning that hospitality is a state of the heart and doesn't need cinnamon buns to prove anything or impress.

 

I think that, beyond anything, people today want sincere friendship.  They want to matter to someone.

 

I want to matter.

 

And I think the kids that come over after school and eat Kraft Dinner together on Friday nights probably feel like they matter to someone.  If they don't see it now, they'll soon realize what a gift this family is.

 

Years ago, when I worked with a community of special needs people, I visited my clients in their homes weekly.  The appointments were booked ahead of time and my visits were seldom a surprise.  Sometimes I was welcomed;  sometimes I was not (ha ha, truth!); sometimes I was tolerated and sometimes I was loved deeply.

 

One of my favorites (shh, don't tell) was a gentleman with Downs Syndrome.  He was one that loved me.  Always.  "Oh Ma-wee, I love you in my hawt....will you mawwy me?"  A weekly conversation.  I smile still.  (mild speech impediments made him even more endearing)

 

But I'd arrive at his house and knock on the back door and from deep inside the house, he'd ALWAYS call out "Come in!  The door is H-H-H-Open!" 

 

He welcomed me with the biggest smile, without fail.  He made the worst coffee ever but I drank it (sometimes) and (secretly) washed the rest down the sink.  He sat beside me and beamed his affection in my direction.  He was probably one of the most gracious people I've met.  Of all the people that I left behind when I resigned from that job, I knew I'd miss him the most.  His tenderness touched me.  I miss his friendship.

 

 

We only get a short opportunity to live this life and make a difference in the lives of others. 

 

I don't think loving others is always convenient.  I don't think people need my friendship only when my house is tidy.  I don't think that every time I want someone to be friends with me that I'll have fresh cinnamon buns handy. 

 

Praying that my heart will be open to love....always, and in all ways.