I borrowed the book, A Cup of Cold Water, from my mom recently, and it has me thinking about hospitality. I also had ten extra people at my house for meals this week, divided between three different meals. Some of the visitors were church friends. Some were childhood friends and family.

I also had  two different neighbors stop and spend time on my front porch with the babies and I–one in her eighties and a little boy who was four.

I did not think of myself as “a hostess” this week. I did not once serve a big, fancy meal like my mom used to serve when we had company for Sunday lunch. In fact, I have never in my life prepared a meal like that. When I have extra people at my house for a meal, I usually make the same simple foods that I feed my family–like pizza and chips, lasagna and salad, or soup and bread. I don’t know how to make a single fancy dessert, so usually the best that graces my table is a giant chocolate chip cookie, my homemade dessert of choice. Or sometimes just ice cream. Since this week was the week following the school bake sale, my visitors got to eat pie that someone else made.

I am afraid I have never cleaned my house like we used to clean before we had Sunday company when I was growing up, either. Cleaning… well, let’s just say it is not my forte. I like to sweep the floors often enough that they don’t go crunch-crunch when I walk on them, and I like to occasionally wipe down my bathroom, and I don’t add to that “cleaning routine” much when I have company.

In fact, so much of my “company” is just neighbors or Ben’s friends or family dropping in without notice that I have become nearly immune to the embarrassment of cracker crumbs on the rug and dishes piled high.

I love when people drop in to see us. I love when they join us in eating whatever we happen to have in the fridge or whatever easy meal I throw together.

I feel that it is not me who blesses them as much as they bless me when they voluntarily spend time in our very ordinary, often dirty, house, and play with my children, and drink my coffee, and entertain me.

A Cup of Cold Water, compiled by two Jolenes, is simply lots of ideas for lots of ways you can bless others. I read bits and pieces of the chapter on hospitality, enough to know that your house does not need to be perfectly neat and your food does not need to be perfectly scrumptious to practice hospitality. I am relieved to know this. Because I have sometimes felt like maybe I should do more when I have people over, but two one-year-olds are not conducive to learning the art of pie making, and they will crush crackers on the floor right at the crucial moments. As far as washing the windows? Nope, not happening.

There were also cute pictures in the book that inspired me to put a little effort into creating a warm and lovely environment. But beautiful table-spreads also do not stand much of a chance around my two little ones. However, I can light a candle here and use a pretty dish there. And I will try to show the people who dare to brave the chaos how much it really means to me.

And tonight I type from another home–one that is rather cleaner than the one we came from, but warm and welcoming to us and our mess all the same. Ben’s grandma fed us delicious food and bounced my twins till they giggled with glee. I hope my hospitality grows and changes with each stage of my life, and that any of you that walk through my door may feel as welcome as we did tonight.

Because your presence dedicates our home to love and laughter, and your smile becomes a gentle benediction of grace over the cracker-crumbed floors and the smudged windows. Thank you for coming–you are welcome.

Here are links for two quick and easy recipes I have often served to people who were kind enough to come to my house for a meal: my giant chocolate chip cookie and my Dutch oven bread.