As I listened to Sten’s message about Who Is At Our Table, I thought about what keeps us from opening our doors in the first place. These words came from there.
“Heart, not house”
My couch is outdated, though.
And I have a dog. Some people don’t like dogs.
And there’s an actual hole in the wall. Also the floor. (Maybe in my ego, too, now that it’s come up.)
Also, we only have one bathroom.
Plus, our house is small. Capital “S” small.
Really not big enough for having people over.
I know we’re supposed to; I really don’t think it applies to us, though. I’m sure it doesn’t.
We should have said those things, maybe.
Or maybe we did, quietly, in our hearts.
(They’re all true, after all.)
But instead we said,
We need to know people. We need people around us and in our kitchen and in our yard. We need kids for our kids. We need lots of someones who will stick around when life gets messy. Because it always does.
So we sent out invites for pizza. Just come, bring ingredients you will eat, anything your kids won’t pick off. You can help us assemble dinner, roll dough if you like. Spread sauce & commonality.
It certainly has never been fancy, and it’s always too far to ask anyone to drive. We still only have one bathroom, but the couch is comfortable.
Did those parts matter?
You know they didn’t.
Because they wouldn’t matter to you, if someone invited you in.