that time I got social and caused everyone respiratory problems

This late winter/ early spring season, we have been more intentional about being hospitable. And there is a whole lot of backstory packed into that little ol' sentence.  There is a lot of fear and trembling and toddler-like learning in that idea of hospitality, for me.

I pride myself on being friendly. In social situations I think I am an encouraging listener.  I'm a nodder- that much is indisputable.  I am a people pleaser to a sad degree, and when I read Bible verses about what to do about your enemies, I'm always a little stymied.  What enemies?

But. But.  I have learned a little about myself in the last 38 (ahem) years.  I am an introvert.  Hermit-level status.  Also, a people-pleasing perfectionist.  And I am much better at contentment, than I am at having the faith and initiative to change circumstances.  Including when it comes to housekeeping.  So although I personally can live in all kinds of clutter and mess and not bat an eye (or lift a finger), as soon as the doorbell rings, my people pleasing side kicks the panic into high gear.  WHO is at the door!? And how can I keep them from seeing this mess!?

Life is messy. At least, ours is.

And so I make all sorts of New Year's Resolution style plans for getting my house under control, once and for all. And when that magical (organized! clean!) day arrives, I think to myself, I will fling open my doors, and all my friends and acquaintances can come in.  I will have all sorts of over-the-top parties, and that will make up for this long stretch of me being too self-conscious to welcome people in... at all.

I guess I hoped the kind of friendship I wanted- needed- could be found without the mess.  Without letting other people see my mess, I mean.  And it's not like I NEVER had a friend over.  But when you shove clutter into a back bed room and pray they don't open certain disheveled cupboards or see the state of your fridge shelves and generally feel on edge about them seeing ALL OF IT- well, it doesn't lead to a very relaxed, authentic atmosphere.  Although I for years could quote all sorts of wise people about intimacy and living in community, I just could not live it.  And my humble, friendly little self, as hard as it is to admit, hurt some people by sending the message, "Thanks for inviting me into your home and life... but I just can't return the favor." I cringe thinking about it- I was so preoccupied by our dog hair covered carpet (despite daily vacuuming I assure you) that I missed saying to people, "You matter.  To me, personally.  You are important, more important than my pride. Please, come in, shove that pile of Legos aside and sit, and tell me how you are."

Bouncing off- err, climbing on- the walls.

This winter marks a baby step in the right direction.  We have had people over several times- on Monday nights, for dinner, with the kids bouncing off walls and life pretty normal.  And I kinda aimed for "normal". As in, not Martha Stewart clean, hosting a big party clean, but what I like to think of as "clean enough to not be featured on a troubling Oprah episode."  And one of the first times we had people over, it went badly.  So badly.  My meat thermometer went mysteriously missing, and I could not figure out if the meat was done.  Food poisoning, anyone?  Something had spilled on the floor of our oven, and I didn't know.  But I found out when I tried to cook the broccoli at 500 degrees.  Smoke billowed out of the oven and even putting the vent fan on high and opening windows wide didn't help.  Everyone sat at the table, waiting for a late dinner, peering through and breathing a choky gray haze.  

And I wanted to go into my room, shut the door, and let some of my stress trickle out my eyes.  Or at least spend some time sniffling shakily.  Alone. But I didn't!  God does change and redeem.  I bravely made distracted small talk, turned off the oven and declared the broccoli done (after half the cooking time) and served some food.  And it was good.  Not the food, I mean (maybe? it was?  I have no idea.  I was unable to taste much at the time) but I mean the night was good.  It helped that our guests were the kind of people that ooze grace and understanding.  And I figured, if Shauna Niequist* can plan a dinner party and get overwhelmed with her people-pleasing perfectionism and end up messing things up... then I was in good company.

So I am not giving up.   I am a person who struggles.  With my own, and others', expectations about what constitutes "normal," and how I live up to that.  My kids, my house, my hair, my small talk, my marriage, my shoes.  Can I let people see it all?  Observe the flaws and awkward edge?  I've learned that if I don't- when I don't- I get sad and lonely.  And I tried being okay with that for a long season.  But I want better, so I am closing my eyes and jumping off the high dive.  At least I found my meat thermometer.  In the hose attachment to my vacuum cleaner, of course. Take that, normal!

*Please refer to her book Bread and Wine. And then buy it.

Cooking is a family affair.