Not waiting for Perfect

There we stood on dry winter lawn, my friend and I, sipping our tea whilst children ran wild around the garden and others continued to arrive. We might have been admiring plants but, instead, we stared at all my rugs, shaken and hanging on the fence where they could benefit from the sun’s natural cleansing properties.

I had meant to mop the floors and get them all back into position before people arrived but that didn’t happen. It didn’t actually happen for another two days! Carpets on the fence means there are none on the floor which means the house is not in order, but nobody seemed to mind in the slightest. “Is this what they mean by ‘Messy Hospitality?’” I asked. “Mm-hmm,” she nodded in agreement and smiled. It’s about opening our doors for friends even when the house is not ready for them. It’s about being present rather than perfect. There are books and quotes all about it, but all I know is that the moment I realised I didn’t need to perform or pass a test in home economics and I didn’t even have to cook or clean to be hospitable, everything began to change for me.

My mom sent me some quotes about the difference between entertaining and hospitality the other day – written/shared by someone on Instagram called Mrs Mary Lentz. “Many people avoid hospitality because they confuse it with entertaining…” she wrote. “Entertaining seeks to impress. Hospitality seeks to minister. Entertaining is an event. Hospitality is an attitude, a way of life. Entertaining is fun. Hospitality is often inconvenient. Entertaining honours self. Hospitality honours Christ. Entertaining is most often a group of people. Hospitality can be just one. Entertaining and hospitality may look similar on the surface but they aren’t the same. Hospitality is a ministry of the home.” I’ve wrestled with this for twenty years. Two decades trying to understand that people are not so worried about the finger marks on the window panes or the way I have decorated (or not decorated) the cake. They will not hold it against me if I’ve run out of milk or can only offer peanut butter sandwiches. They are less concerned with me and my shortcomings and more concerned about how they are feeling as they come into my space.

We are all just looking for a place to belong aren’t we? Some place where we can take a deep breath and be heard and understood. A soft landing, a safe space, some quiet music or children’s laughter or the swish of the wind in the trees in the background. A smile and a hug letting us know we are welcome. I arrived at a friend’s house once, shaken to the core because en route I had briefly fallen asleep at the wheel or at least I think I had. I was exhausted. She was looking forward to seeing me as I was her but as I got out the car and told her how I was feeling she began to cluck like a mother hen. She ushered me into a quiet bedroom with cool sheets, gently commanding me to lie down and rest for as long as I needed to. “I am watching your children, take all the time you need,” she insisted. Thinking back, she was probably more tired than I was but she nailed hospitality that day when she truly saw me and put my needs above her own. I remember that visit above the hundred others we must have clocked up.

If we are waiting for the conditions to be just so, we will not do the important things in life. When we share our imperfect selves and our imperfect homes, we give others permission to share theirs. I am all for home making and creating inviting atmospheres to welcome people into, but I am also a mother with her hands so full that sometimes my best is a smile for my guests, my hair still in the style my toddler designed earlier in the day, chicken poop on the steps and my floor mats hanging beside the chairs we are going to sit on.

Years ago, we met some Australian Bikers in Vic Falls and invited them to stay at our house if they needed a place to rest on their way up north. I didn’t dream they would travel our way or accept the offer. The night before they arrived, I began to stress. What if they were bad people? Had we invited danger into our safe home? “Do not forget to show hospitality to strangers, for by so doing some people have shown hospitality to angels without knowing it.” (Hebrews 13 v 2.)My courage grew. I am married to a man who is interested in all people, kind and generous to strangers and really, should be getting paid by our government for his voluntary role in our nation’s hospitality industry. It’s all his fault we ever met the brave biker couple and I am so grateful for his expansive heart, because far from inviting bad people into our home, we invited the best of the best. People who stayed a couple of nights and asked for an extension and then when it was time for them to go, we convinced them to delay a little longer. I don’t think they are angels because they have jobs and they’ve had two kids and we know where they live, but our time together was a rare gift, like a little bit of heaven on earth.

We like to have sundowners, specially when we are on holiday. To begin with, the expectation was a glorious sky, a special drink and some quality snacks. One of our sons has taken this tradition as his own and he will imagine all the ways sundowners can work even when it’s a very normal day. For him, it’s about stopping for a while and being together; making an occasion out of the ordinary. Not so long ago, when I wasn’t prepared with drinks or snacks and the weather was fiercely against us, he convinced us that the unopened bag of marshmallows would be the perfect thing to open at sunset. There we sat huddled beside a misty lake eating sweets, clouds billowing in from all sides so that we wouldn’t have known where the sun was never mind if it would set. Disregarding any standards his mother might have clung to, he created a special memory for us by using what we had. He reminded us that sundowners is not so much about the drinks or the snacks or even the sun, but about taking time out with people we love and just being together at the end of a day. The moment was far from ordinary and it was perfect because it wasn’t.

When it comes to hospitality and family traditions and living meaningful lives, I have a strong feeling that the conditions will not always be favourable. When we are too busy keeping up appearances and planning for things to happen just so, we can often miss the opportunities right in front of us. Napping during a tea party, angels on bikes and marshmallows in the mist – when things aren’t going according to plan and we say yes anyway, some of the best memories are made.

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