More than it seems

It's not often I blog about any subject that can remain entirely serious, but today I feel something comin' on. Perhaps I should go check my temperature?

---

In the course of the last 2 years, I've read many articles on the subject of hospitality. Quite a few of them found at LAF. (see sidebar link) While interesting and yes, at times inspiring, these calls to Christian feminine hospitality left a bad taste in my mouth. The feeling that hospitality must be practiced as an "all or nothing" proposition is one that comes up frequently if you look around enough, especially on women's message boards.
When I hear "hospitality" all I can think of is a group of ladies wearing itchy lace dresses, crowded into a stuffy old parlor room, and sipping hot tea when it's around 85 degrees out. Mmmm southern hospitality. What occurred to me yesterday is that hospitality (and I'm thinking it's time to go Google a darn thesaurus) can be very different from that image.
Some of you know that I live in the ghetto. Say it with me now. Ghet-to. Very good. Now if you've never experienced the ghetto, I recommend a trip to your local housing authority. They can direct you to your nearest ghetto and perhaps give you a quick tour. When you live in a ghetto like I do, you're probably not inclined to entertaining, like I'm not. But here's the thing. God often blesses us when we take the time to step out of our comfy little niches and do something to bless others. Not saying it's easy! But it can be well worth it.
Just a few weeks ago, Mr. P. and I had a few friends over for dinner. Most couples our age probably do this often, but we do this...ah...never. The great thing about that night is that all of us were pretty ghetto, but like I always tell my kids, we may not have a lot, but what we do have we can share. Certainly, we were blessed that night with companionship beyond measure.
Earlier this week, my aunt stopped by for a spell after her doctor's appointment but before she went home. Aunt D was quite sick with allergy-related bronchitis, and although she's typically the type to motor through everything, we tricked her into relaxing a bit. Coffee, kids and a gift of handmade soaps (no I didn't make 'em) worked like a charm. I didn't realize how much opening our home meant until she called a few days later let me know she appreciated having a place to recoup her energy before heading home.
And then yesterday, I gave a neighbor a cup of creamer for her coffee and some cookies for her son. It was our kids' first day of school and us mamas need that morning cuppa!
It's funny to me how each of these moments, small and large, blessed my heart while blessing someone else. And isn't that the point of being "hospitable"? Even in the ghetto, you can open your home and your life to friends, family and even those you hardly know. I've read that when it comes to Christian hospitality, the idea is sharing Christ's love along with your home and your time. So even if it's as humble as a plastic tumbler of half and half, it's more than it seems.

Til next squeak,