I’ll admit it: I’ve coveted the ease with which others throw parties. I’ve wondered how some people–some women–seem to keep their wits about them when they have a hundred things going on and people visiting and they seem so calm (we don’t need to mention the times when I try to cook while having a conversation with someone and I end up missing two or three vital ingredients).
For much of my life, I’ve been intimidated by hospitality. I’ve been intimidated by the prospect of sharing my table. I’ve wondered if I need to reach some sort of bar to invite others to my table and my world. This has kept me isolated when what my soul needed was a good ol’ time at the table with friends.
What I’ve begun to realize over the last decade of my life is that Jesus utilized the table as a way to connect, not a way to prove anything. This is teaching me to rest at the table.
I share this information with you earnestly because it’s okay to be vulnerable and say I’m scared of hospitality. A lot of people ignorantly ask, Isn’t that what women do? Aren’t women supposed to be good at that?
I get it. At least I think I do. Most of us have fond memories of feeling at home with someone, or taken care of by someone to whom hospitality comes naturally, and it causes us to think it should be easy.
What I’ve found is that for me, hospitality isn’t easy– it’s a gift, a sacrifice of time and heart space.
