Grieving hospitality
"Hospitality is not for the called or gifted. It's not for the gregarious extroverts with huge houses and overflowing bank accounts. And it's not for the people with angelic children, respectable roommates, or perfect marriages. Contrary to those spiritual gift tests that catalog hospitality as a special talent, nowhere in the Bible is it named as such. Instead, hospitality is a command (see Romans 12:13; 1 Peter 4:9). Hospitality is for everyone." (p. 114 from Invited: The Power of Hospitality in an Age of Loneliness by Leslie Verner)
I used to be all about hospitality. When we lived in the Big Ugly House it was easy. I had a dining room which could seat my entire family plus the same number of guests. I had a kitchen which made it easy to prepare large amounts of food. I had a guest room and a guest bathroom separated from the other bedrooms which we used many, many times for both short and long stays of a wide variety of guests. We hosted international students, other families, homeschool co-ops, large parties, and even a wedding. I loved it. I loved having the space to be so generous.
I'll be honest, this is the one area which I still have yet to really come to terms with in our move. It turns out that what I miss most about our new house is having a decent dining room. In our current dining room, I can barely seat my entire family if everyone is home. Forget about inviting another family to dinner.
Oh, I know the seating doesn't matter. We've had other families join us, with people seated in various parts of the house both at tables or with plates on laps. (Warning, whining ahead.) But it's not the same. It is not the same to not be at a table together. I love families all sitting together around a table. I love the conversations, how the children can be part of the whole thing rather than shunted off in another room, how sitting at a table together encourages lingering over a meal.
I miss being able to invite others over and really eating together. It makes me want to avoid inviting people over. It's not that I'm embarrassed about any of it, I just really do not like the dynamic of people scattered hither and thither about the house. Children inevitably finish first that way, and are up and moving about. Parents then feel as though they cannot linger at the table for quite as long because of roaming children. The whole dynamic changes.
Our original hope for this house when we bought it was to enclose the back porch, make it part of the inside part of the house, and have it become a long dining room that would seat everyone comfortably. And then we got a raw deal by a less than honest buyer, and that plan became financially impossible.
I thought I had put it all behind me, but reading this book on hospitality has all those emotions all roiling around again. Sometimes there are times when I miss my old huge, falling down house so much. I do love this property and like much about the house we are currently in. If I were to win the lottery, I really wouldn't feel like moving, but I would do a few things to the house. Adding a dining room would be at the top of that list.
So there's my little pity party for the evening. I'll go to bed, get some much needed rest, and things will look better in the morning. But it's still a shame a good night's sleep cannot make my dining room larger than a postage stamp.
I used to be all about hospitality. When we lived in the Big Ugly House it was easy. I had a dining room which could seat my entire family plus the same number of guests. I had a kitchen which made it easy to prepare large amounts of food. I had a guest room and a guest bathroom separated from the other bedrooms which we used many, many times for both short and long stays of a wide variety of guests. We hosted international students, other families, homeschool co-ops, large parties, and even a wedding. I loved it. I loved having the space to be so generous.
I'll be honest, this is the one area which I still have yet to really come to terms with in our move. It turns out that what I miss most about our new house is having a decent dining room. In our current dining room, I can barely seat my entire family if everyone is home. Forget about inviting another family to dinner.
Oh, I know the seating doesn't matter. We've had other families join us, with people seated in various parts of the house both at tables or with plates on laps. (Warning, whining ahead.) But it's not the same. It is not the same to not be at a table together. I love families all sitting together around a table. I love the conversations, how the children can be part of the whole thing rather than shunted off in another room, how sitting at a table together encourages lingering over a meal.
I miss being able to invite others over and really eating together. It makes me want to avoid inviting people over. It's not that I'm embarrassed about any of it, I just really do not like the dynamic of people scattered hither and thither about the house. Children inevitably finish first that way, and are up and moving about. Parents then feel as though they cannot linger at the table for quite as long because of roaming children. The whole dynamic changes.
Our original hope for this house when we bought it was to enclose the back porch, make it part of the inside part of the house, and have it become a long dining room that would seat everyone comfortably. And then we got a raw deal by a less than honest buyer, and that plan became financially impossible.
I thought I had put it all behind me, but reading this book on hospitality has all those emotions all roiling around again. Sometimes there are times when I miss my old huge, falling down house so much. I do love this property and like much about the house we are currently in. If I were to win the lottery, I really wouldn't feel like moving, but I would do a few things to the house. Adding a dining room would be at the top of that list.
So there's my little pity party for the evening. I'll go to bed, get some much needed rest, and things will look better in the morning. But it's still a shame a good night's sleep cannot make my dining room larger than a postage stamp.
Comments