Welcome (But Don't Look at the Dirt)

I don't know about you, but this photo says to me, "Welcome!"  His arms are outstretched and his face (such as it is) is bent toward you with anticipation.  I made the mistake of looking at this photo in a much larger format and guess what I saw instead of the welcome?  The dirt on the window.  Yup, I just ruined it for you, too.

Have you ever welcomed an unexpected guest in your home with an immediate apology for the mess?    It's an absurd impulse at best, for it communicates a whole host of things that you may not have intended.  For one thing, it's hard to think of a better way to shine a neon light on the state of your house.  "Look here!  My mess!  No, don't look at it!"   It also communicates to your guest that perhaps an unexpected visit is an unwanted visit.   Rather than feeling truly welcomed, your guest now must spend time reassuring you.  Guess where the focus is now?  You and your dirt.  You and your mess.  You and your obsessive desire to make sure that no one ever sees the mess in your life, or at least that they see the current mess as an aberration of sorts.  You.  Okay, I'm being somewhat hard on "you," since it's really me that I'm talking about.  

So what that the laundry baskets are on the living room floor, surrounded by folded clothes?  So what that there are books and magazines strewn about?  So what that you didn't clean the dishes and wash the counter right away after lunch?  Is there dust on the furniture?  Are shoes cluttering the entryway?  Big deal!  I'm not against cleanliness; in fact, I love a clean house.  But even more, I love a welcoming, hospitable house.  Those who visit are not coming by with a white glove to inspect the house (and if they are, they probably won't be back).   Hospitality, true hospitality, seeks to encourage, edify, nourish and welcome those who visit.   Don't shift the focus to the dirt on the window.  

Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, 

for by this some have entertained angels without knowing it.

Hebrews 13:2 

Thirsty

Behold, my rosemary plant.

I brought it in last fall, knowing a Minnesota winter would kill it, but alas, it did not fare much better under my regime of general neglect punctuated with panic-stricken waterings now and again.  My indoor plants are definitely "out of sight, out of mind."  The divide between green thumb and black thumb is at the water faucet in our house.   How hard is it, really, to water a plant faithfully when it needs it?   I have never forgotten to feed and water myself or my family, but these green living things don't make enough of a fuss.  If only I could hear their little green voices crying out thinly, "we're thirstyyyyyyyyy."  But no, they just quietly suffer, droop, dry out and (sometimes) die.  Oh the guilt!

One of the first Bible verses I memorized was from Psalm 63:1:

Oh God,

Thou art my God

I shall seek You earnestly

My soul thirsts for you,

My flesh yearns for you

In a dry and weary land

Where there is no water.

This is the country in which my plants live much of the time:  A Dry and Weary Land Where There Is No Water.  I have lived in this same land, on and off.  I have known the soul thirstiness of the psalmist, and unlike my little green friends, I do not tend to suffer in silence.  How grateful I am that my God is not a fickle or forgetful gardener (like me) but knows just when and how much life-giving water to give me.  Are you thirsty?

 Whoever is thirsty, let him come; and whoever wishes, let him take the free gift of the water of life. Revelation 22:17