Rethinking Hospitality
How one woman's dirty bra changed my perspective on hospitality
I had a friend reach out to me suggesting that I post my main article from my last ‘The Friday Five’ as its own post. This is helpful, constructive criticism that I sincerely appreciate as I am trying to figure out Substack and make it as user friendly and enjoyable as possible for my subscribers. Cheers to constructive criticism! (Which gives me an idea for a future post…the best ways to give and take constructive criticism…I digress). So, please forgive me if you’ve already read my post on Rethinking Hospitality, and if you haven’t read it yet, I hope you’ll enjoy it now. So, here goes…
Moving forward, I plan to keep this format: post my main article earlier in the week, and include it with The Friday Five as one of my five reflections of truth, beauty and goodness for your weekend. With that said, there may be a few more posts this week than what will be the usual rhythm. Thank you for being here and reading my words. I hope they bless you, as you have blessed me by being here.
Years ago for a brief period, I sold Stella and Dot jewelry. I would enter the homes of women, they’d tell me where to set up, and I’d begin thoughtfully arranging my inventory and marketing materials, getting ready for the show. Usually, the hostess would be finishing up with last minute hostess “duties”: arranging the snacks, putting the toys out of sight, lighting the candle in the powder room.
One night, while I was arranging the necklaces and bracelets, the hostess of this show, Amy, whom I didn’t know at all prior to that evening (she had attended a friend’s Stella and Dot show in another state and located me through the website to host locally) stood next to me, helping me arrange. We chatted about jewelry, her friends who were coming, and a new TV show she’d just started watching that she was loving. Her help with arranging the jewelry may have been her preshow window shopping but I noticed that she wasn’t bustling around straightening pillows or picking up dog toys. She was talking with me about things we had in common. I did notice, however, that she had plenty of dog toys out. And kid’s toys. Plenty. And she had dirty dishes in the sink. There were jackets strewn across the banister of her stairs, and shoes laden with grass clippings sprinkling the floor were piled around the kitchen’s back door, very close to where I was setting up our display. All her snacks were low fuss: the chip bag had been opened and just laid out, with a tub of dip not dumped into a pretty bowl, but still in its store-bought tub. Cupcakes still in the clear plastic packaging, with the lid thrown to the side. She did, however, have several bottles of “the good wine” and sparkly, clean wine glasses sitting out.
That party, I clearly remember, was one of the most successful shows I had ever booked. It was successful because she had a ton of friends show up, many of them purchased, I booked a few more shows from it, and everyone had a good time. The air was filled with authentic laughter, not pretention.
During the show, I needed to excuse myself to use the bathroom. The powder room was occupied so she directed me upstairs to the master bathroom. I walked through her bedroom where I tried not to pay attention, regardless I did still notice the bed wasn’t made and the large pile of half-folded, half-piled up laundry taking over an oversized chair in the corner; ‘that looks familiar’, I remember thinking. The bathroom was on par with everything else I’d seen that night; the counter tops were loaded with products, clutter everywhere, very personal dirty clothes on the floor. To honor this breath-of-fresh-air hostess who welcomed me into her personal spaces to use the bathroom, I tried not to pay attention to the cleanliness of the toilet or sink but I did stop to consider that my stepping over her dirty bra lying on the bathroom floor didn’t make me think any less of her. It was quite the opposite in fact; her bra, and all of the other signs of authenticity I’d witnessed to that point, made me think more of her! But mostly, I couldn’t stop thinking about how different that entire experience had been from all the other times I’d done this.
When the show was over, after the last guest hugged Amy and said her goodbyes, she helped me pack up my supplies. She asked if I had a chance to try any of the wine she’d left out for her guests. I had not. I was usually busy ‘selling’ and filling out jewelry order forms all night so partaking in the festivities was off the table for me. She apologized and said, “Oh I am so sorry I didn’t pour you a glass. Please forgive me.” She then ripped off a section of paper towel, loosely wrapped me up a cupcake, ‘for the road’, hugged my neck and thanked me and walked out to my car with me, carrying one of my heavy bags filled with marketing booklets. That almost never happened. Usually, hostesses are busy cleaning up when I’m heading out the door.
I spent my drive home reflecting on what I had just encountered and taking mental notes. This experience had made me rethink the terms of hospitality.
It has been many years since that night, and I am still affected by Amy’s hospitality. She wasn’t concerned about the condition of her home. She didn’t even apologize ONE TIME about the state of anything, her only apology was not pouring me a glass of wine before it was all gone.
I know hospitality can be setting out the beautiful server ware for the thoughtfully planned feast. It can be dusting the white powdery toilet paper dust from the metal bars on the mounted toilet paper holder so your guests can have a sparkling clean experience in your home. It can be perfectly placed blankets just in case your guest encounters a chill.
But it can also be inviting friends to your home just the way it is because that is what a ‘real’ home looks and feels like and by not setting the bar high with perfect canapes and karate-chopped pillows, it’s an invitation for your friends to feel like they can do that, too. I think the reason I booked more shows from Amy’s than any other show, is because she made it look attainable with her realness. Amy cared that I was taken care of, not what other people thought of her living room. She sought to connect with me upon my arrival by helping set up and finding something in common with me to chat about. That made me feel instantly comfortable. By contrast, it was definitely a little awkward during that first thirty minutes when I was setting up in the home of another woman I barely knew. And come to think of it, one of the reasons was because that hostess was so concerned about the state of her home, saying things like, “I’m so sorry my space is so messy” this and “please excuse the dirty floors” that, while I assured her: “it’s OK, yours is spotless compared to mine.” All I could see out of place was maybe a single fingerprint smudge on the fridge handle. Amy had the gift of hospitality in an unexpected, yet exciting and attainable, authentic, and unapologetic kind of way.
I listened to the Jeanne Oliver Podcast recently and she was speaking with her guest, Duane Pitman, about hospitality. Duane summed it up best by saying hospitality means saying, “I see you.” She said, “when people leave, I want them to feel better about themselves, not better about me or my home.”
In a culture that is becoming more and more lonely and busy and less connected with others ‘in person’, our hospitality muscles are being exercised less often. I have chatted with many friends who desire to be hospitable. I fall in this category. I think we recognize how important it is to extend these invitations to connect and love others well through gathering but come up with every reason why we can’t make it happen. 1 Peter 4:9 says, “Offer hospitality to one another without grumbling.” I know for me, there are times when we do have people coming over, and the stress I put on myself to ‘get it all perfect’ is usually accompanied with a lot of grumbling. A grumbling heart is not a great place with which to serve others. What would Amy do? She wouldn’t worry about the dog hair and dirty dishes. She would be authentic and welcome me to a space where I can be authentic, too.
How practical is this? I mean, can we really leave our home dirty and cluttered and invite strangers or friends in? Only you can answer that. But maybe there is a level of ‘acceptable chaos’ you are willing to tolerate, and you strive to keep the main level of your home in that zone, for hospitality’s sake. That’s what I’ve been working on lately. I also once heard a tip somewhere (Martha Stewart? Sally Clarkson?) to keep a few pounds of frozen ground beef and a tub of vanilla ice cream in your freezer and spaghetti noodles (make sure you include some gluten free ones, too) and spaghetti sauce in your pantry to have an easy meal that you could throw together if unexpected guests stop in.
Whether you can welcome friends into your ‘real’ home or not, perhaps the more important question becomes: Are you willing to put aside things that don’t really matter so you can focus on the things that do: loving others well? For some, that may be letting go of the clean floors, for others perhaps its saying yes to a friend who wants to hang out instead of your Tuesday night tv show. Maybe instead of your regular morning workout, you invite that lady from your bible study class to come over for coffee. Maybe it’s putting aside a fear of being rejected if you ask a neighbor to join your family for dinner. And if your family looks anything like ours does in this season of life, you know that may not go well…as much as we teach manners and good behavior at the table, there likely will be a burp, a disagreement, or a piece of steak fat that gets spat out suddenly…but so what if it does? That’s authentic and consider it an ice breaker and an invitation for your guests to feel like they can be themselves, too.
Authenticity is absolutely important in being hospitable; and so is generosity. When we need an example of an authentic, generous model, I know the perfect one. Ashley Hales, in her book, Finding Holy in the Suburbs, beautifully describes Jesus’s hospitality:
“Like a king and host, he prepares a table in the wilderness. Like a priest, he offers the pure unspotted lamb on behalf of the people of God for forgiveness of sins and restitution with God. Like a host, he rains down provision in the desert, nearness when we are lonely, welcome when we do not deserve it. But he is also the offering, the food the host offers to undeserving guests.”
It’s unlikely we’d categorize our guests as undeserving, but, what if we took a cue from Ashley’s lovely insights on Jesus here? What if our offering is not our homes, food spread, prepared playlist, or cornhole boards…it’s us…loving and serving others well, generously? Will they think less of us if they leave our home feeling loved and seen? The answer is no.
“Remember to welcome strangers into your homes. Some people have done this and have welcomed angels without knowing it.” – Hebrews 13:2-4
Questions for reflection:
1. What excuses keep you from being authentically and generously hospitable? Are you willing to address them to welcome more opportunities to be hospitable?
2. What blessings are you missing out on from not welcoming others in and being hospitable? Are any that you identified something that has been missing in your life?
3. Can you recall a time when you felt comfortable to be your authentic self because someone modeled that to you first?
4. Have you ever judged someone by the mess of their home? Was their messy home a distraction from their character or how they treated you while you were their guest?
5. Spend a few moments reflecting on or looking up some of the ways Jesus showed authentic and generous hospitality to students, friends, family, strangers and outcasts. Which of these moments resonates with you the most? Can you follow in his footsteps?
I love this! And I love that you included reflection questions.