Long ago, I saw a sign that said:
"Home: where guests are treated like family and family is treated like guests."
That resonated with us. We didn't really achieve the last phrase of it but we attempted the first phrase.
But as we started this new home-as-hospitality-business, that motto isn't our aspiration. We want this house be our family's home. A place where each one feels at home from the moment they pull into the driveway. That will take time. We expect that it will be a place of special holidays and normal every-days, of family nights and sick days, of fun and fellowship, and likely, suffering and sorrow. The life events that every house encompasses.
Although most of our actual family doesn't live with us, they come and go. And we have a house-family, made up of several people who choose to live with us. It's a precious household community. Together, we're figuring out the cadence of the calling. The keeping of the House, the welcoming of strangers, the making this House our Home. The rhythms and routines. The life. It's all a bit blurry, but we trust time will bring it all into focus.
I don't know who said this because I'd like to attribute it properly, but my heart echos it:
One day, when my children are grown,
I hope they still come through that door without knocking.
I hope they head to the kitchen for a snack and
rifle through the mail looking for a magazine they always read.
I hope they come in and
feel the weight of adulthood leave them,
for they are home.
For my children, my door will forever be open.
Above all else,
I hope they know this without me telling them.
But Randy and I have told them, just in case. Our home is always home for them. 🗝