I Want to Be Your Grandma

I don’t know about you, but I loooooved going to my grandma’s house. It was a place that seemed to hold just the right blend of “busy” and “come set for a spell”. There was usually something cooking or being mended or washed or otherwise tinkered with, but it didn’t feel rushed…not to me at least. I remember neighbors “just dropping by” and their visits lastings for a couple of pleasant hours. Maybe it was Southern charm or a slow gas leak, but that place all but called out loud for you to go sit in the living room and fall asleep with the fan spinning overhead.

It’s what I’ve prayed that every home we’ve lived in (we’re currently on number seven) would be. I want to offer a space of respite, of peace, of good food, of joy, of fun, of met needs, of life to everyone we are fortunate enough to have walk through our door! I want time to slow to a pace that allows everyone to breathe and think, to talk and savor moments.
Not some weird Utopia where we all just sit around, drinking spiked punch and never washing the dishes, but a place where you feel free to walk in, pour yourself a glass of water–it’s usually that or milk: we’re suuuch parents now, sit and chat with me while our kids run around and I fold laundry (or avoid it, depending on the day). My hope is that no one would ever feel rushed in our home or might wonder if they are “inconveniencing” us.
I can’t tell you the creepy amount of joy it brings me when someone drops by unannounced like on some wonderfully cliche sitcom. New neighbors come over and introduce themselves? I’m practically drooling with giddy gratitude. What has absolutely put me over the edgeof hostess bliss, though, is people sleeping on my couch. Super weird, right? Like I just want to invite people over, get them drunk on whole milk, pull up a chair and watch them sleep. No, no, no. Well, at least I don’t think you can get drunk on milk.
It’s a symbol of comfort and ease for me. To know that someone can feel at home enough amidst our kids’ toys, throw pillows, and dirty dishes to pass out silently reciprocates the happiness that I feel in having them as a guest! I suppose they could just be exhausted and without social scruples (or maybe we have a slow gas leak!), but I like to think that they’re picking up on the “mi casa es su casa” vibe.
And so, to all of our lovely family and friends who drop by, walk in ready to be hugged, juggle kids, eat our food, pray here, swap stories, laugh and even cry, settle in for a good visit, and extend to us the same invitation, we are blessed beyond words to know you! To everyone else, the door is always open! …just knock to give anyone who might be naked a 10 second warning.
**As a closing note, I would like to take a moment to thank Mac Mitchell for being the first in an ever-growing list of guests to christen our couch with his sleepy head. You’ll never know how warm it made my little heart.

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