{finding joy} hospitality here and now

A couple months ago, my small group did a spiritual gifts questionnaire, and the three gifts that hopped to the top of my inventory were Administration, Hospitality, and Mercy. 

Administration? Yes. As I flip through my planner and skim my detailed layout of to-dos and deadlines or turn on my computer to look through my budget in Excel, I see how this gift is realized in my everyday life. I'm organized. I plan. I get things done. I love being in charge and executing social events with friends. Mercy, too, is evident in the decisions I make and the things that move me. I'm the girl that chokes back tears almost every time I pass a homeless man on the street or read stories of deep poverty in America's cities or third-world countries. I organize toiletry and food drives and spend time with the elderly to make them feel noticed and valued. I'm leaving my corporate job to help reach under-served kids in inner city schools and get them into college. My heart hurts for others and rejoices in their victory over difficult circumstances. I'm not saying these things to "toot my own horn." I'm saying them because I think it's good to validate the gifts God has given us and see how we're using them to glorify Him and further His kingdom (neither of which I do often enough). 

Hospitality, though, seems to have gone missing from my everyday. And I miss it. I love the idea of welcoming people into my home and gathering around the dinner table to share stories from our days and growing into friendships over food and wine, laughter and conversation. I love to think about decorating in a way that makes my home warm and inviting so that friends come for planned dinner parties or on a whim and feel comfortable enough to grab their own cup from the cabinet, sit on the counter, or sink into the couch with a cozy blanket. I've even started creating a binder filled with recipes and entertaining tips & tricks, all so that I am never short on meal ideas that will nourish my friends and family, comforting them in seasons when it never seems to stop raining and celebrating their promotions, engagements, pregnancies, or simply that they survived another week.

photo from chapelhillmagazine.com

Yes, I love the idea of living a life of hospitality. So why don't I practice it more than I do? 

I'll answer that one for you. It's because I've convinced myself that I'm ill-equipped. Firstly, I'm a novice in the kitchen. I don't own a set of Cutco knives or a Kitchenaid mixer. I've never made pasta from scratch or successfully grilled a steak. A grimaced through the last batch of rice I made, and my greatest culinary success most weeks is dipping a spoon into a large tub of JIF Extra Crunchy and slathering it on a banana or apple (SO GOOD). And on top of my Martha Stewartlessness, I'm living in what feels like a state of constant transition. Not fully moved in and weeks away from packing up and moving out again, so how can I possibly invite others in when it barely feels like home?

I tell myself that it's just not the right time for hospitality. That when I'm settled and have that house and can cook that dish and decorate that way, I'll host girls brunches and euchre nights and celebratory dinners. I'll whip up batches of lemon blueberry cupcakes and chocolate chip cookies in my Kitchenaid and serve them on little matching plates at the dining room table.  

I'm not going to lie. I do really hope I get a Kitchenaid mixer one day. But by pushing off this desire to invite others into my home, I'm missing out on chances to love on and celebrate with them today. So ... that's it. I'm done keeping my front door closed because my plates don't match and my specialty dish is meatloaf, which weirds more than a few people out. 

photo from thekitchn.com

I'm done waiting for the right time to savor sweet moments at the table or the kitchen counter or on the living room floor. Because the right time is now. Life is now. My friends are here now. My heart is full now. And I want to share my home with the people that make life so sweet and the people that make those peoples' lives sweet. 

So come on over, friends. Don't mind the boxes (Miss Betsie is getting married), the coats thrown on backs of chairs (we do live in Minnesota), or the coffee cups filling the sink (we're a caffeine-loving household). We do this thing called life here, so it can get messy at times. But you're more than welcome to join us - in fact, we'd love it if you did! 

Do you have an "open door" at your home?