You’re not going to believe me, but it really did.
The week after we moved into this new place, we had one of my friends over in order to meet her new special someone. They’d been hanging out together for a bit and we decided we needed
to be nosy and check him out to get to know him and welcome him into our circle of friends.
We stood in the entryway and welcomed them, introducing ourselves to the young man. Upon walking through the hall and into the kitchen, he remarked that he thought I’d like a friend of his, because my house looked a lot like hers.
“She has a blog. You should check it out,” he said. “She’s called The Nester.”
…because my house looked a lot like hers…?
Well, on the spot I decided that I absolutely approved of him and asked them if they could move next door after they were married.
I will own up to the fact that my house looks like a lot like the Nester’s partly because I was so refreshed to find someone who decorated her home in cool tones. After we moved here to Charlotte, I felt like every home I was in was warm browns, golds, and reds, which was very pretty in its own way, but it wasn’t me at all.
And I will own up to the fact that when I went to the Nester’s house, I asked her what the color of her front room was. She told me the name of it, and then said that her sister had the shade that was a bit cooler, and it was called Oyster Bay. Remember when I told you I never wanted to live without it? I brought it with me to the new place….I wasn’t ready to part with it.
This week the Nester is in Tanzania, reminding us all that hospitality isn’t really about what your house looks like at all.
I hear so many excuses as to why people avoid hospitality. Their house isn’t ready…isn’t big enough…isn’t perfect. They think their cooking is substandard. They’re too busy. They’re just not cut out for it. They need time to themselves.
These are all delightful weasel words for disobedience to the command given in I Peter 4:9 to “Show hospitality to one another without grumbling.”
I get told a great deal that I’m “just good at it.” I will be the first to say that no, I’m not “just good at it.” I am quite bad at it. Those excuses above run through my head regularly. But maybe I have a bit more practice at beating them back and putting my foot down in obedience.
Practice. Prayerfully putting one foot in front of the other. Getting a plan. That’s all it is.
It’s not about the house at all.