Hospitality, the Christ-like Kind

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.

 

And then, the day before we left, everyone got sick. They got the really yucky kind of sick that is the stay-in-bed all day kind of sick, and our gracious hosts got it the worst. And yet, even in sickness, they opened their home. They let us "be" in the basement; they gave us a place to rest.  

My brother, my sister-in-law, my mom and dad -- gave us what we needed most last week: loving hearts, open ears, and eyes that saw Christ in all the little, wild people who crossed their thresholds. They sought to comfort and to minister. They lightened our load. They loved us, no matter how cranky, no matter how demanding. They allowed Christ to minister through them, and oh, to be the recipient of a minister of Christ.

To my gracious hosts, I thank you, again and again.