My gift is not hospitality. It’s just not. Hospitality is opening up your house when there are dishes in the sink, laundry in the wash, just enough food for one person (not even prepared), and lovingly opening up your home/ place to people to just come in and be welcomed.
Hospitality is not about making everything look perfect and be perfect (because perfect is not a thing), and being a complete crazy person until all is the unattainable perfection. Unfortunately I know what hospitality should be, but still yearn for the Instagrammable everything. As much as I wish true hospitality was a gift I excelled in, I’m still learning.
My last Women’s Day dinner was, once again, a lesson in true hospitality. I wanted it to be perfect. A good menu. Beautiful decor. A list of friends- not too many, but not too few. I planned everything. EVERYTHING! And as always, plans change. I did not plan to sit for 40 minutes in traffic leading up to the dinner- 40 minutes of precious prep time that all I could do was sit and fume.
I got to the house, and starting going crazy like a mad person! A few friends showed up early (planned), and I put them to work. SO thankful for sweet friends who will just pick up my mess and love me anyway. I should have been more thankful in the moment, but instead I was upset that they weren’t moving fast enough or having any sense of urgency. When other friends showed up early, I was even more mad that people had the audacity to come early- who does that- who shows up early? In the land of manana… no way. I chose myself, over love. I chose selfishness over being grateful to have such encouraging, serving women in my life who came early to help out.
Even as I reflect on the evening I have to remind myself to not be upset that no one got the ‘perfect photo’ of the beautiful table… or the best photo of the great decor. I have to remember the great conversations; the mingling of different friend groups; the time each woman gave up to spend their evening with me. THAT is the point of a great dinner party- not the food, not the money spent, and definitely NOT photos taken (but still, guys, come on…in a room full of millenials NO ONE TOOK A FREAKING PHOTO OF THE TABLE?)
I know that I want to be more hospitable. I want a spirit that just opens her heart and home to all, regardless of the aesthetic of the photos that could be taken. I’m praying for it. I’m searching for it. I’m trying for it… but until then I’ll just rely on the love of friends and their graciousness. ❤
Be reminded that behind the nice photos there is usually someone who sat in terrible traffic, cooked throughout the dinner party, and is still upset (weeks later) that nothing went as planned. 😉