Rethinking Hospitality

Since David and I have been married, we've only hosted a few dinner parties for friends, and I've been feeling a bit uneasy about our lack of hospitality. The thing is, I like inviting people to our home. But I also feel anxiety about it. I feel that everything has to be "perfect" in order for someone to enjoy coming to our home. The decor, the meal, the scent of the candles. I inherited this from my mother, who felt it important that the house be scrubbed clean of any hint of human existence before guests arrived.

This year, I really wanted to have a big Christmas bash -- invite all of our friend...friends who we had failed to invite into our home for the past year and a half. But before I committed myself to a party, I wanted to paint all of the rooms in our condo. I wanted to impress everyone who hadn't yet seen our place -- to make them think we are cool and hip and have the latest Benjamin Moore colors on the walls. I wanted them to get the impression that even though our place is small, it's worth living in. Most of our friends our age have rehabbed bungalows, or at least much bigger condos. I wanted to impress.

Well, I started painting the office. It took longer than expected. Then the living room, which took an entire weekend. Then the entryway, and the kitchen....well, early December turned into mid-December and before I knew it all of the "good" dates for Christmas parties were taken by other friends, and I still wasn't finished painting and my hopes of a Christmas celebration were dashed. So I'm starting 2007 with even more guilt that David and I are approaching our 2nd wedding anniversary and some of our friends still haven't been to our place.

Two days ago, on Wednesday, I was working on a project for a new client, which always makes me insecure and stressed. I had also told our friends, Jane and Andy, that I would bring them a meal, since they just had a baby and aren't getting much sleep. But by 5:00 I was running late. I was still at Whole Foods, cramming ingredients for a Spicey Thai Beef Salad into the cart, when Jane called wondering when I was going to drop off the meal. 7:00 or 7:30 I told her. But after I hung up, I realized how crunched for time I was -- standing in the checkout lane watching a VERY SLOW checkout guy pass the items in front of the scanner. GET A MOVE ON IT! I was yelling at him in my head. I had to pay for the groceries, drive home, make the salad and get to Jane and Andy's by 7:30. As I was driving out of the Whole Foods parking lot, my cell phone rang. It was David. "What are you doing?" he asked. "I'm just leaving Whole Foods and I'm very stressed." I told him.

"Well, I'm going to make you even more stressed. S is coming over and he's going to stay with us for a few days."

"What?!" I blurted.

"Yea, he needs a place to stay, and so he'll be over in 30 minutes. I'll tell you more when you get home."

All I could think about was the dirty bathroom, the dishes in the sink, the papers scattered over my desk. In normal circumstances, I would have rushed home and at least given the condo a once-over. But there was no time. I had to get home and rush to get the salad made. "Okay", I sighed into the phone. It wasn't that I didn't want S to come over, it was just that I wasn't prepared. Things weren't perfect enough.

Well, I got the salad made (with lots of help from David), S came over, and I found out he's going through a difficult time right now. While I was dropping off the salad, he and David had a chance to talk, then I came home and we sat in the living room and talked some more. I told him I was sorry about what he was going through, and apologized for the house not being too clean. Of course, he didn't care.

Last night I was in the kitchen washing dishes (our dishwasher is broken), and S came into the kitchen. "Thank you," he said.

I said, "For what?" I hadn't provided a clean house. I hadn't cooked him a meal. I hadn't really done anything that would get me into the hostess hall of fame.

"Thank you for your hospitality. And for being so calm." he said.

"Well, you're welcome," I said. "Anytime."

He left the kitchen and I started thinking about what hospitality really means. It's not about a clean house or perfectly cooked meals. In fact it's not about me at all. It's about giving...and providing a little bit of refuge in the storm of someone's life. I guess that's what I had done, without even trying.