Last week the kids and I spent four days in Colorado without Daddy -- a bittersweet elixer of blue-sky, white-peak, crisp-air days; of laughing car rides, hiking adventures, and new play areas; of old friends and family and meals shared around tables...but no Daddy. And after a three hour journey of self-discovery flying by myself with all three kids, I decided that the husband must be with us, whether here or there.
The trip was a good reminder that while the Colorado blue is deeply inbedded in my DNA, my husband has grafted himself in to my being. And the husband wins.
That said, while we were sans-Daddy, we relied wholly and unabashadly on the hospitality of our family. And having been the recipients of their generosity for nearly a week, a word about how their hospitality warmed my soul.
It is most summed with a quote from the Heart of My Home blog:
Hospitality... seeks to minister. It says, “This home is not mine. It is truly a gift from my Master. I am his servant, and I use it as he desires.” Hospitality does not try to impress but to serve.... Hospitality...puts people before things.
Somehow, inexplicably, my brother and sister-in-law and my parents put us before their own "things" last week. When we descended upon their well-ordered lives with the wildness of a five-person tornado, they stepped aside. When our twister of flying clothes, toys, baby food, and diapers wrecked havoc upon their basements, living rooms, and kitchens, they stepped aside. And when we careened through their hallways, pounced on their beds, ate up their snacks, and rolled in their yards, again they stepped aside. They served us baskets of kid-friendly snacks and personal plastic plates, with Toy Story and Princess Beds, with matching pajamas and prepared, turned-down rooms. For four days we enjoyed delicious home-cooked meals, pre-set coffee ready in the morning, french toast and blueberry pancakes, and shared toys and games. They served us, and they served us well.
To my gracious hosts, I thank you, again and again.