Becoming Hospitable

Technically, I’m sitting in the hallway, but it functions as a den. It’s a wide hallway, in a bit of an awkward T-shape, on the second floor of our house (second floor by American counting). We call this hall the breezeway because a wind tunnel is created by opening the front and back balcony doors. It is lovely.

I haven’t loved all of our houses. But this one suits us so well. I set aside my book for a moment as I listen to my family in various parts of the house.

I can hear my sons downstairs, chatting, goofing off, and watching cartoons. They are teenagers now, so this isn’t as common as it used to be. My husband is on the back balcony, humming to himself and shooting crows with a slingshot (unsuccessfully, as crows know what an aimed slingshot means). A pair of house sparrows are nesting in the eaves, and the crows are harassing them. He has decided to be their guardian.

We moved in just before Thanksgiving, and thoughts of our last house are still fresh. Though it was small and cramped and the ceiling was caving in, we used it as well as we could. Friends and relatives came over on weekends in ones and twos, and larger groups spent holidays with us in that space. We had many overnight guests. We did what we could with the space we had.

This house, well-built and much larger, is a gift. How do we use this space to glorify God? We have more than we need. What do we do with it? My prayer is that we would not miss opportunities to put this space to work.

I haven’t always thought of our home in this way. I like my space to be my space, without other people around. My home is a haven for me, not for everyone I know and certainly not for strangers.

I’m a stereotypical introvert. When people say, “Not all introverts are like that,” I’m the one who is “like that.” I’m reserved and have a touch of social anxiety, and I do not like phone calls or small talk. I’m awkward. I am perfectly content to be all alone for days at a time.

I married someone for whom hospitality comes naturally as part of his culture and personality. Early in our marriage, I resisted inviting people over, only occasionally agreeing when he suggested it. But lately, I enjoy inviting people into my space.

I didn’t have an epiphany or experience a dramatic personality shift. Solitude and personal space still bring me comfort. Gradually, I grew to enjoy having people over simply by doing it. What I love most now is creating space for others who, like me, are far from home. Even though our town is not a big city, there are many people who work here but are from other parts of the country. They can’t travel home for the holidays. Neither can I. Why don’t they join us? And I find myself telling my husband to invite some people over.

There are a few things that help me with this, logistically and as an introvert:

• Keep things simple. In The Gospel Comes with a House Key, Rosaria Butterfield talks about baking bread and making a pot of beans for dinner guests. We often pick up beans and chapati from a Swahili restaurant. But even for holiday meals, I keep the menu as simple as possible.
• I aspire neither to my own culture’s idea of a perfect hostess nor my host culture’s idea of a perfect hostess. Perfection is not the goal. The goal is to be welcoming and spend time with people.
• I use what I have. I serve meals on mismatched plastic plates and bowls. My grandmother would never! Once, our guests were shocked, but delighted, to realize that I served them from the same plastic bowls they have at home.
• Manage expectations. My husband is the inviter. He will even invite the clerk at the supermarket when he runs out for a few last-minute items before our Christmas dinner. I normally tell him how many people I’m mentally prepared for, and he sticks to that. He has come home with guests unannounced before, which was very hard for me.
• I need to recharge. I don’t expect to go anywhere or do anything significant the day after we have guests. During long parties or with overnight guests, I tend to disappear in the afternoons for a break.

I cherish spacious Sunday afternoons like this one. My family is happy, everyone is doing their own thing, and the house is peaceful. But I also cherish the afternoons and evenings when my house is packed with friends and relatives, with laughter abounding, and conversations circle the rooms in three languages.

How have you developed your habits of hospitality? Does it come naturally to you or was it an acquired taste? What tips do you have for introverted cross-cultural hostesses?