Friday, July 21, 2017


I seriously do not know why I even bother, to clean my floors, that is. Perhaps it is simply for that euphoric feeling that lasts approximately 30 minutes following an elbow-deep kind of cleaning day. Within those 30 minutes I relish the smell of Pine-Sol, because I have yet to make the switch to the all-natural, no nasty chemicals, no artificial colors or smells, totally safe, Instagram savvy colored organic cleaning solution. I am not knocking it, I just like my Pine-Sol and may be slightly annoyed that I have to contemplate "am I killing my children," every time I use it. 

In that short window of time I manage to convince myself that this time will be different. This time the house will stay clean all week. I will implement new rules and charts and everyone will joyfully and gladly pitch in as we manage to keep an immaculate home. It is about that time that Bear comes running straight through the living room, screen door slamming behind him, to declare that he has caught another fish and Fred follows quickly behind with his own set of muddy, squishy, dirt-infested feet that I awake from my day dream and start yelling, in a loving tone, of course, "have you lost your mind??"

But this particular day, the day that I want to write about, was much different. I saw a side of myself that gave me confidence in knowing that God has in fact been working on me all these years.

The date was July 5th, 2017, and the scene a very tired and slow moving "me" sweeping every square inch of my outdated white tile floors. Piles of dirt were collected all over the house, because I had yet to locate my dustpan. With each pile of dirt I began to notice that I was smiling as I swept. Like when someone catches you in mid-thought and you didn't realize that you were smiling. I managed to catch myself in that sort of moment, but why in the midst of such a mess was I smiling?

It wasn't the mounds of dirt that brought me satisfaction, but rather the cause behind the dirt, food, blankets, & coffee cups scattered all throughout our home.

The dirt came from the shoes of people I love, people I had just recently met, as well as people that share my blood. The voices of these special folks filled my home the night before as we sang praises to God.

The food was prepared and shared by those same hands and my tables, floor, and porches were all occupied as we broke bread together.

The blankets usually stacked high in a large corner basket were draped over couches and chairs reminding me of the precious friends who spent the night in my home.

The coffee, oh the endless pots of coffee, that were made and consumed until the wee hours of the morning as we played games and held discussions.

As I glare at the mess before me I cannot help but be thankful.

Zach and I both come from a long line of hospitality flowing down from both of our Grandmothers, Mothers, and Aunts, which would include Zach’s famous Aunt Kay. These womenhave all taught us a great deal about the importance of hospitality.

It was as though it was bred in us both to have a love for hosting, but so often this thing we believed to be "good" caused lots of "frustration" between us. How could that be?

I believe it was due to my own misunderstanding of what true hospitality meant. In the same way I often struggled with looking as though I "had it all together." I also carried that same mentality within my home. Everything had to be perfect. House, dishes, floors, decor, everything must be perfect and when Zach did not carry my same drive to get everything into place this would often cause tension leading to a fight. Fighting with your spouse right before company arrives never leads to the best of evenings, surely you can relate.

I realized early on that although I may have been bred to show hospitality, I was blind to the reason behind it all.

I had made it about me--imagine that? It was more about my decorating abilities and cooking skills rather than the people. It was about "the presentation" more than the sharing of lives.

My home was not a blessing, it was a museum of everything I held dear. Ouch.

I wish that I had some super cool story to tell you of how God changed my heart, but actually that is the cool story, GOD CHANGED MY HEART and it was a simple decision to say, I believe you.

Please do not misunderstand me, I love making my home pretty and inviting. I love fancy dishes, fresh flowers, yard sales, and everything being in order, but if having everything perfect remained the prerequisite for having people in my home then we would miss out on a lot of fellowship, because it is rare for me to have it all together. It would also eliminate those last minute "can I come over and talk" conversations because I would need at least a days notice to make our home presentable. Zach and I would miss out on the great blessing of sharing our home and our children would miss out on the many lessons that come with viewing your blessings as a means to show love to others as oppose to keeping them to yourself.

What you should know about hospitality and my home today.
• You may manage to catch me on a good day and find it immaculate, but it is unlikely. Either way, you are welcome.
• The smells from a home-cooked Southern meal might possibly linger out the door as you enter through the porch or the fridge could be completely bare, but either way coffee and conversation will always be available.
• I love candles, they cover a multitude of dirty laundry which is almost always lurking.
• I love quilts. Those who come to my home regularly know just where to find them. They are not for looks, but meant to be used.
• The size of your home is irrelevant. "Whoever can be trusted with very little can also be trusted with much" Luke 16:10. One of my greatest memories took place in our single wide trailer packed wall to wall with young college kids thirsty for The Word.
• The dishes will be there tomorrow, typically your company will not, invest in them.
• Your things may in fact get broken or damaged, but those "things" will pale in comparison to the many hearts that will be changed by experiencing the love of Christ in your home.

P.S. Go ahead and bring in your dirt, because the Holy Spirit and Pine-sol will always be on hand to clean up your mess and mine.
This porch is waiting for ya! 
"Be hospitable to one another without complaint" 1 Pet 4:9

3 comments:

  1. LOVE this! I've been learning the very same lesson and would love to chat!

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  2. Love it sweet Jil, I think about this often living with 6 boys, I wouldn't have it any other way.Cleaned all day but tomorrow will bring more life through the door, you want be able to tell & it's OK 😉😘❤

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