Hospitality is More of a Posture than an Industry

I just got back from my grad school intensive last week in Durham, NC. What a trip! People who have done my program often say that Durham is the best out of the four intensives. It was phenomenal. The class we focused on together is called, Hospitality as Leadership, led by a kick ass female head of the Bible department (first in the churches of Christ…Naomi, you’re a bad ass).

If you’ve spent any time in the Bible, particularly the Jesus stuff, you’ll know that hospitality was something Jesus got in trouble for a lot. Not the hospitality industry where everything is fancy and requires payment, but old school hospitality where whores were washing his feet and terrorists were sharing meals with the religious folk (much to their horror). Jesus was the type of guy who broke a lot of rules. He hung out with people he wasn’t supposed to and he shared food with them, which in the Jewish faith was a major no-no. And while I like rule-breaking to a level I never admired when I was younger, I don’t think this was just because Jesus liked to theologically rumble from time to time (though I think he did) but because he really thought people were more important than laws and rules. He made space for people who society had said didn’t deserve space (uh oh, how can you not think of our border crisis now?!?!) I even think that he didn’t welcome those who weren’t “worthy” by society’s standards in spite of their station socially but because of their status. Having lived a life of a “lower” person, perhaps their perspective was important, irreplaceable, needed in the religious world? When everyone has a seat at the table, the conversation changes.

Part of what we do in the program is develop personal rhythms to sustain us in our spiritual practices and studies. It’s not about learning all the things with books but about experimenting and being open to new ideas and ways of life. But reading all the books and writing all the papers along with trying to make space for those we’ve been told don’t matter requires A LOT of self-care. Hence, the rhythms. It includes intentionality around prayer, hospitality, attentiveness, and simplicity. We write them ourselves so it’s really just a way to create something for us (we have a spiritual formation director who supports us in this…shout out to Natalie). And I am being more intentional with my hosting and being hosted within my family.

And so I had this moment with my oldest this morning…this daughter who I keep thinking won’t need me as much now that she’s in middle school. And yet, this kid shouts good-bye to me in front of all the cool kids at the bus stop and wants me there waiting for her (two blocks from our house) every day after school. She is giving me opportunities to host her and to be hosted by her. I’ve heard this in the context of marriage being described as “love bids.” Partners, and all loved ones, give us opportunities all the time to lean in or to lean out of the relationship. And while part of me thinks “can’t she just walk two blocks alone, I already took my bra off?!?!”, what this class is reminding me is that my daughter wants to host me in her day. The question is, can I make space for her while I host myself? I have a body and my own emotional needs and an incredibly demanding schedule. Those things are involved in just being me in my life right now. I need to make space for me in the midst of my life and that requires a lot of care and balance with my time and energy. Can I also make space, in these little ways, to say yes to hosting and being hosted by my child? And can I see those opportunities for connection as not just part of my motherly duty (does that ever really end?) but as even a way to bring blessings to me? This is not a one way street.

A lot of ideas around hospitality now are about helping guests feel comfortable. And that is really important. But have you ever played the role of host for the evening and at the end of the day, felt refreshed by the company? Have you felt loved and heard even as you poured coffee and served food? We think that hospitality is a top-down, one-direction dynamic. But, if we’re honest and also open, hospitality can be a circle. We can give and receive throughout the evening and the entire relationship. When I was in ministry, I positioned myself as giver and rarely as receiver. What an exhausting and prideful way to live! And how much did I miss out on when I postured myself that way?

I just wrote about seeing myself as a colander creating space for people to share things. That idea is in line with hospitality. It’s not about a physical space (Jesus was not a home owner). It’s about connection. It’s about eye contact. It’s about paying attention. Maybe it’s actually a gift from God to me that my oldest is open and honest about her need for me. And maybe that’s not another thing on my list but the exact thing I need to remind myself that my priority is love, no matter how easy it is to get caught up in everything else.

Cake Either Way

Today is the day we find out if Macy got into the arts academy in our public magnet school program. The kiddo is the perfect candidate, but A LOT of kids want to go. We’ve been waiting awhile to find out and I’ve just had to compartmentalize the “not knowing” for several weeks so I can be a mostly functional person. However, I can no longer compartmentalize because today is the day. I’m supposed to be outlining my giant ass research paper due in a week and instead, what am I doing? I’m burning sugar. Literally.

Last week, Macy looked at the calendar and said, on March 1st, no matter what, we’re eating cake. Her logic was, if it’s good news, we’ll have a celebratory cake. And if it’s not good news, we’ll eat cake because it’ll make us feel better. The cake she chose is an old-timey recipe we found years ago for her American Girl birthday party. It’s called, you guessed it, Burnt Sugar Cake. It’s delicious. And tedious. And requires all the bowls. But it’s worth and she’s worth it and so as my outline remains blank, I’ll be in the kitchen burning sugar. Waiting.

As I’ve gone through my school process, I’m learning to tune into my patterns and I’ve noticed that I do concrete, embodied things in moments like this. I make bread. I listen to music. I bake. I write. I paint. I go outside. When I feel out of control or I need to pay attention or I need extra care, these are the things I practice. It makes me wonder: outside of our obvious shared sweet tooth, does my little 10 year old know I needed to make a cake today? Sometimes I wonder.

It’s important to me that whatever news we get today is Macy’s news. Whatever feelings I have about it, those are mine to hold and process while she receives support from me and Tim to process hers. I’m gonna need that cake to keep my feelings to myself and to not put any of my stuff into her box. Ultimately, her story is hers. I’m just a supporting actor.

Parenting Without the Control Panel

I’m having a hard week. I thought the strategy of doing absolutely nothing over break would gird me for my regular life, like I could bank energy and be good to go when everything started back up this week. Turns out, sleeping as much as you want and doing whatever you want for days on end does not gear you up for 7am wake up calls and busy after school and evening activities. Crisis not averted. I’m exhausted.

On top of the transition issues, this week has brought front and center the middle school application process (magnet schools) and the school testing process for Penny to start public elementary next year as a first grader (trying to get her ducks in a row if she needs accommodations). Having both kids change schools at the same time and having them both be scary transitions for me (from private to public school with a developmental delay and elementary to middle school) is not sitting well with me this week. A million kids want to go to the school Macy and I have been dreaming about since second grade. And my local elementary school is being run by an administrator that is driving out all the good teachers, so what am I supposed to do with my amazing little one? I want them to have the best.

I don’t normally navigate life from a fear base. But these upcoming transitions for my kids is hitting me in that gut place of being out of control of something that feels like I should be in control of. Does that make sense? I’m not in control of either process. I have choices I can make for Penny (like driving her across town for school for the next 5 years, which also limits what I can do when I’m done with school) but Macy’s process is just a one in a million shot. We can’t make it happen. I can’t just pay a fee or sign her up. I can’t go in and pave the path. And she might be the perfect candidate and there just aren’t enough spots open. I’m really struggling with that reality. I feel like I know what is right for my kid and she might not get it. And I think I’m feeling shame over that, like I should be able to get it for them, especially because she totally deserves it and is a great candidate for the program.

Parenting can be painful. I don’t live out of a place of scarcity but I’m feeling pressured to right now. There really are only so many slots in this school, you know? And I can’t talk my way into a spot for my kid. They don’t even let parents come into the workshop/audition/interview process (good call on their part!) I didn’t expect to be a controlling parent. And I’m not particularly controlling of my actual human children. But I am controlling about their environment and opportunities. I think they should have everything. I also want all the other kids to have everything. Not where everything is just handed to them and they become entitled brats, but I think they should get the opportunities to grow and explore that are available.

Tim and I were talking it through and he was saying lots of kids at shitty schools go on to do great things and our kids can too no matter where they go. And he’s totally right and thank God for him. And let’s face it: I don’t really care if my kids are “successful.” I don’t give a shit about money as long as their basic needs are met. I want them to feel a sense of pride in who they are. I want them to be kind. I want them to do what they love. And I want them to have love and to be happy with themselves and others. I don’t need them to “be” anything for me to feel like “I” did something right. I just don’t want the world to crush my kids. I want that amazing flame to burn bright and for no one to have the power to quench it. That’s all. I’m scared.