Where I Have Found My Hospitality

Water has spilled from the cup the umpteenth time. "Sorry Mama!," voices my five year old.

Reclining into the chair, couch, bed to nurse this five week wonder. Her cry hushes and breathes out grunted satisfaction.

Bouncing, incessantly laughing, asking to help with dinner-dishes-mopping-spray something-on ever need of attention ride pounds my nearing four year old. She defines middle child quite well.

Ben reminds me, "This is just a season," which concludes with a study he read on this "stage" for parents is the lowest satisfaction time only to be matched by the adolescent years.

What about the holy work of hospitality? You know the one. Families selling their possessions to join something big, something sacred & definitely more book publish worthy. Join a commune, work in a refuge camp, begin a 30 day series on your blog of why "We don't buy clothes, in order to be intentional and buying coffee from a coffee shop is definitely out of the question" type of series.

I read these 'on the fringe' stories, why I need to give money to X, Y, & Z organization, because that's my job as a Christian and feel less. But why would showing lovingkindness make me feel less? I certainly don't withhold this Christ cup, but try to embrace it daily. Still it appears that my cup is less than overflowing when compared to the heroic battles of others I read about.

But, you know what?

Being a vessel to see the glory of the Lord shine is nothing shy of Eden beauty. It's not in the how it's played out, which makes this story holy, sacred, good. No, it's in the doing.

Hospitality is lovingkindness, pure and simple.

It's the 2am feeding, the wiping of faces--bottoms--countertops. My hospitality is not the same as your hospitality. Our stories look differently. I don't need to feel guilt about my hospitality "needing" to look like holy. We all know what holy looks like, don't we?

I'm done with letting my voice, someone else's voice get in the way of being the vessel for good glory to grand feasting Table. I'm done with trying to squeeze into the glass slipper of love in action story, because it's not fitting too well.

My hospitality is tending my family, giving a warm smile to a group of kindergarteners, fixing meals, cleaning laundry, whispering, "I'm proud of you! I love you!"

It's not glamorous, it's not tear-jerking, but it's mine. It's what I've signed up for and been given to show God's hands & feet.

What is your hospitality?