Dan and I were honoured this past Christmas Eve to host the annual dinner for 18 family members. It was our first Christmas in our own house, and the renovations have given us ample room to have that many people here at the same time. As the event drew nearer and nearer, I found myself getting quite excited about this event. I thought through each person who would be in attendance, and looked forward to conversations with each one. I also thought through each of the family members who would be missed, those far away, or unable to make it for various reasons, and I reflected on memories past with those individuals.
As we pulled out Christmas decorations and put them up throughout our now, larger house, I started to worry, as the lack of snow also impacted how much things didn't look like Christmas. One night, I woke up in a tizzy, after a bad dream, in which people arrived to our house, saw the lack of decorations, and said "well didn't you know you were hosting this year? We thought it would look a little more Christmasy!" When I described this dream to Dan in the morning, he laughed and said, "Well was there food in your dream? That's all people care about, stop worrying about the decorations." The day of the event, Dan and I strategized about how we would set up the room. I'd bought one long table cloth for our 10 person table, and assumed everyone else could sit in the living room and eat off their laps. We didn't have enough matching plates and things for the table to be set and still look nice, and I wanted the room to still look aesthetically pleasing. Dan disagreed. He said it would look lovely if you were the one sitting at the table, but how would it feel for those who had to eat off their laps? As I thought about it, I realized he was right! So we asked my inlaws to bring 2 extra tables and more chairs, and made one massive table, with plates that didn't all match, not enough cups, and 2 people who didn't get knives. The room was squishy, the table cloths were different shades, and the centrepieces I'd planned for a table for 10, no longer worked at a table for 18. And it was amazing. Aesthetically, it bothered me, but socially, to see everyone during the meal sitting at that table, passing the food along, eating to their hearts content, not having to get up to serve themselves seconds, it was lovely. I wish I could say that this sort of frantic care about the details only happens to me when I host Christmas, but it's not true. I often care about the appearance of our home. I often care that the bathrooms are very clean, that Theodore's room is spick and span (Even though rarely people even go up there), I often care that our house has a level of "un-lived-in-ness" about it...even though, it is in fact, WHERE WE LIVE. I like our shoes to be neat at the door, the windows to not have marks on them (which is impossible with a particular guy ,Theodore, not Dan, who loves to lick all the windows), and the sink and dishwasher to not have a trace of dirty dishes. Now, be careful not to assume that I'm bashing clean houses. There is something to be said for the home that has been prepared for you, for the home that is tidy, and makes you feel at ease upon entering. What I'm saying, is that some of the homes I've entered and felt the most myself, were the homes where I knew the person spent more time preparing their heart for my arrival, than polishing their silver. I felt like I could cozy up to tea and put my feet on the couch while we shared stories like family. I felt like I could linger all day, because I knew they weren't ashamed of the state of their home. I'm growing in this area. When people say they're coming over, I leap with excitement, but I also leap to frantically clean as much as I possibly can before they arrive, ensuring I stop with enough time before they arrive to regain my breath. After all, they can't KNOW that I just rushed to clean, they have to think this is how we always live. What if instead, I simply tidied the dirty diapers strewn across the couch to prepare a place for them to linger, and then to linger a little longer. What if I opened up my home instead, for people to just come exactly as they are? What if I spent more time thinking about what I appreciate about these people who enter this space, and thinking of ways I can encourage them, than running up and down stairs shoving things in closets? There's a quote that I love that says "When you have more than you need, build a longer table, not a higher fence." And finally, a quote by Shauna Niequist, who has been helping me grow so much in these areas through her books "The heart of hospitality, is when people leave your home, they should feel better about themselves, not better about you."
1 Comment
Brittany
1/16/2016 01:58:38 pm
Thank you for your raw and honest post, Mel! I often find myself rushing about to prepare a clean and attractive home as well and i can get so stressed over it! Instead I want to calm down and just create a comfortable resting place for good heart to heart conversations, vulnerability and lots of laughter! I also feel like I really need to read a Shauna Niequist book as I've heard only good things about her!! :)
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AuthorI'm a farm girl living in the city, a daughter, a sister, a wife and a mother. I love the simple things in life, and love to share them with others. Archives
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