How we attract a crowd: A fire in our front yard!

21st century hospitality has been on my mind, and in the last post I shared some ideas on how to break free from CHAOS (Can't Have Anyone Over Syndrome). It has occurred to me that for many people, the idea of hosting a sit-down meal might be biting off more than they could chew, so to speak.

So, I want to set the record straight: showing hospitality does NOT have to be a four-course meal, it does NOT have to take place at a your table, it does NOT have to include the entire family, and it does NOT necessarily require you to invite people inside your home.

Allow me to elaborate:

I was once a stay-at-home mom with a baby, a toddler, a mountain of laundry, and cheerios in my bra (if I was even wearing one). I would find a lonely stay-at-home mom--someone who had just left the working world, someone who was new to the area, or someone that just needed to escape her own house. I'd ask her to come over and bring her kids. She did not mind the mess; she was gratified that someone else lives the way she does. We let all the children run amok while I folded laundry and visited about ear infections and overpriced baby food. Kraft Mac 'n Cheese and milk was the lunch menu. By the time my friend left, we both felt better, the kids were tired from running around, and the pile of laundry was greatly diminished.

Jeff is a man who likes to home-brew beer. But instead of keeping the bounty for himself, he invites male friends over for beer-tasting. I leave for Barnes and Noble to drink a Frappuchino and read a scholarly periodical (People magazine) and Mika and Macy go to bed. Jeff sets out some chips, nuts, and some beer glasses. He invites random neighbors, co-workers, running buddies, and anyone else he think might enjoy a night out. One co-worker from India who had only been in the country a week showed up to our house with a huge smile on his face. He proclaimed Jeff "my first American friend!" Priceless.

What requires no menu, pre-planning, RSVPs, or ever a semi-clean house? A marshmallow roast in our cul-de-sac! This is how it goes down: We start a fire in our pit and set out some chairs. We raid our stock of graham crackers, marshmallows, and chocolate bars, and put them on a table with a pitcher of water and some plastic cups. The girls knock loudly on our friends' and neighbors' doors and invite them to congregate on our front lawn. Jeff sends out a text to friends with a simple message: "marshmallow roast." Everyone knows that means that they are welcome to come hang out with us in our front yard.

Our Golden Retrievers serve as the welcoming committee. There is no set arrival or departure time. People come and go at their leisure. They're welcome to invite others to come along. We encourage the kids to bring their bikes, balls, and skateboards so they can play in the cul-de-sac while the adults visit. We never know who will show up or how many--it is part of the fun. We may have a dozen people or we may have forty.

There is something magical about standing shoulder to shoulder with others on a chilly fall night while you gaze at marshmallows browning on an crackling open fire. The squeals and laughter of children playing tag coexist with easy conversation between old and new friends. People tend to relax and unwind as the skies grow dark and the moon and stars provide a glorious canopy for our informal gathering. There is no agenda; our only hope is that we communicate to each person, "we are so glad you are here to share this evening with us!"

A couple of hours before one of our roasts, I was probably tired and looking forward to a leisurely evening in front of the TV. Most likely, I reluctantly succumbed to the pleading of Macy, our extrovert, to host yet another marshmallow roast. But, by the time everyone heads home and the embers on the fire die down, I feel rejuvenated, connected, and without any regrets. The effort made by us is small, but the pay-off in terms of community is huge.

By the way, we live at 617 Ashford in Coppell; if you ever see a fire at the end of our cul-de-sac, don't call 911! Instead, please stop by to chat and enjoy a s'more! We look forward to meeting you!!!

the dreaded CHAOS syndrome

Ever heard of CHAOS? I became a victim of CHAOS soon after I started popping out babies. It stands for Can't Have Anyone Over Syndrome.

Can't have anyone over because I haven't washed my hair in three days. Can't have anyone over because no one can see the carpet through all the toys. Can't have anyone over because I have nothing more creative to cook than chicken, stuffing, and cream of chicken soup thrown together in the crock pot. Can't have anyone over because my children will be loud and disruptive. Can't have anyone over because guests might spot the spiderwebs lurking in the corners of my vaulted ceiling. Can't have anyone over because I'm too tired, too busy, too cranky. I could go on and on...

When my girls were little, I occasionally mulled over the meaning of the Apostle Paul's exhortation in Romans to "practice hospitality." Then, I forgot about it and went to change another diaper or figure out which "little angel" managed to lob pink play-dough onto the ceiling fan. But, eventually, I begin to look into this Biblical notion of hospitality a little more. I was overwhelmed by the number of times homes were mentioned during the time of the early church, both as a meeting and eating place for believers, and as a tool to spread the gospel. "They (believers) broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts." (Acts 2:46). Hospitality was not supplemental for the discipleship of believers and spread of the gospel; it was foundational.

Jeff and I came to realize that even though we are introverts, even though we have young children, and even though our schedules seem full, we can carve out some occasional time to have people into our home. Perfection or anything approaching perfection is not required. Max Lucado, in his book "Outlive Your Life," said it best:

"If we wait until everything is perfect, we'll never issue an invitation. Remember this: what is common to you is a banquet to someone else. You think your house is small, but to the lonely heart, it is a castle. You think the living room is a mess, but to the person whose life is a mess, your house is a sanctuary. You think the meal is simple, but to those who eat alone every night, pork and beans on paper plates tastes like fillet mignon. What is small to you is huge to them. Open your table."

For us, the best time to host someone is lunch time on Sunday. This is because we attend church services on Sunday evening, leaving our Sunday mornings and afternoons free. People seem to be more available at this time because they work less and have fewer scheduled activities on Sunday. We have also had guests over for dinner during the week (especially Jeff's co-workers visiting from outside the country).

We don't have people every week--far from it. Sometimes we need some family "down" time, sometimes life gets too hectic, and sometimes plans fall through for a myriad of reasons. But we have become more intentional about opening our home.

Who do we invite? It is definitely anything goes, and we have moved far beyond our comfort zone and also acquired friendships, connections, and a richness to our family's life beyond anything we could have dreamed. We invite our neighbors, especially those we don't know well. We invite our friends and family. We invite people from church that we would like to know better. We invite the families of our children's school friends. We invite visiting missionaries. We have even invited families who we meet at the park for the first time on Sunday morning--next thing you know, they are sitting across the table from us, sharing a meal.

Together we have laughed, cried, shared, reminisced, and conversed on everything from the weather to life-and-death decisions. We have been blessed to learn about other cultures and faiths. We have achieved a knowing and an understanding of others that is impossible to replicate by exchanging status updates on Facebook, texting, or communicating by e-mail.

Mika and Macy have been taught that each guest that comes to our home is made in God's image and deserving of our honor and respect. They open the door to our guests and say, "Welcome to our home!" They have learned social, cultural, and spiritual lessons that cannot be acquired in a classroom. The girls have looked across the table and seen people of all ages, colors, abilities, walks of life, and backgrounds.

Don't get me wrong, things don't always go smoothly. Sometimes the meat is overcooked or the tablecloth is wrinkled and lopsided. Sometimes my girls spill milk or end up fighting over who they are going to sit next to (yes, it's embarrassing!) There are moments of strained silence and times when the noise level threatens to unhinge my eardrum. I've spotted a live bug in the corner of the dining room; don't know if our lunch buddies saw it or not (just keeping it real, folks).

But it is so worth it! What a blessing it has been to open our home and our table to others. I hope that, even if you are in the midst of CHAOS, you will consider giving it a try--I think you'll be glad you did!

"Facebook is an extension of my brain"

Will you tell me a secret? If not me, then is there someone in your life you can confide in when you need to? According to research, over the past two decades, the number of people who say they do not have a single person with whom they can discuss important matters has doubled.

Friends meeting together and sharing their lives has eroded as the media gadgets and technology available to stay connected with people all over the world has exploded. People with 500 Facebook "friends" and a stream of Twitter updates lighting up their phone often claim to fell lonely and isolated.

My younger friends tell me that telephone calls and even leaving a voicemail is intrusive and passe. One of my closest friends even told me that if I didn't start texting, she did not know how we could maintain our friendship. She detested talking to me on the phone. (I have joined the 21st century and have text capabilities now). A teen states, "Facebook is an extension of my brain." An eleven year old child warns, "if you don't text, you don't exist."

I am the first to say that technology can be a blessing! I am grateful for the ability to access my digital coupon list at the grocery store, study Spanish on my iPhone while I wait for the doctor, and view photos on Facebook of my friends' children and vacations. I have also learned how to sew an awesome pair of pants by watching a demonstration on YouTube.

Our family's livelihood depends on technology. My husband makes a living by helping to manage a website for American Airlines. Part of his and job is to do everything he can to get you to transact business on the AA.com website. Do you want to check on a flight arrival time?--website. Do you want to make a reservation?--website. Find your lost luggage?--website. Don't you even think about talking to a live ticket agent or customer service representative unless you are prepared to pay for it!

We can transact most of our business and communicate with our sphere of friends without ever seeing them in person or even hearing their voice. Is this the new normal? It seems that the perks of technology have come at the cost of personal human interaction. We've settled for a shallow relationship with hundreds of people and found it increasingly difficult to maintain (or begin) authentic relationships with even a few.

I am trying to learn how to reconcile the world of rapid-fire technological connections with the time and effort that must be put into lasting, satisfying, deep relationships. It is a constant struggle, and I don't have all the answers.

But I am convinced of one thing: no matter how much technology advances or how it increases our ability to be connected with others, we are hard-wired to have meaningful, face-to-face interactions with people. This is true regardless of the time and culture in which we live. In his book, Outlive your Life," Max Lucado agrees, and makes a suggestion to boot:

"Call us a fast society, an efficient society, but don't call us a personal society. Our society is set up for isolation. We wear ear buds when we exercise. We communicate vial e-mail and text messages. We enter and exit our houses with gates and garage-door openers. Our mantra: 'I leave you alone. You leave me alone.' Yet God wants his people to be an exception. Let everyone else go the way of computers and keyboards. God's children will be people of hospitality."

Hospitality? Huh? What does it mean for me and my family? Do I have to become Martha Stewart? Invest in some new table linens? Learn to cook beef wellington? No! Max Lucado states,

"Not everyone can serve in a foreign land, lead a relief effort, or volunteer at the downtown soup kitchen. But who can't be hospitable? Do you have a front door? A table? Chairs? Bread and meat for sandwiches? Congratulations! You just qualified to serve in the most ancient of ministries, hospitality..."

In my next post, I'll be talking about some ways our family has tried to grow in the area of hospitality, and also share how I was cured of CHAOS syndrome. Stay tuned...