guests and dust bunnies
Whenever I am getting ready for company, I start seeing my house through another’s eyes.
The bookshelves are stacked to the overflowing, and the desk looks just like the shelves — except it is papers and files that are cascading all over the desk.
Dust bunnies lurk in the corners and can always be found hanging from the ceiling with the cobwebs. No matter how recently I’ve dusted (and it’s usually not recently), fine particles of dust coat everything.
If you’re not stepping on crumbs or something sticky, you’re tripping over a discarded toy or forgotten book.
And I race around with the vacuum and the broom and it doesn’t seem to do any good. At least the bathroom is clean and the kitchen sink is empty, but even they wouldn’t pass the white glove test.
My heart sinks, and I do my best to keep from greeting my company with eyes red from crying, because no matter how much I try, my house will never look Pinterest-clean or Martha Stewart organized.
But the moment they walk in the door, the dust doesn’t matter. They track in more dirt, they bring more dishes. And before they’ve taken off their jackets they are commenting on the books. They always comment on the books. And it doesn’t matter that there is no Dewey Decimal library system or that there are dust bunnies everywhere.
The children are either playing painfully shy or dragging our guests into their even messier bedroom to proudly show off their box house and the “bonk beds” that Daddy made them. Conversations circle around the books and the children and the food. The dishes pile up and we excuse ourselves from the the talk around the kitchen table only long enough to put away the food.
And as they leave, I realize that I wasn’t looking at my home through their eyes at all. With the critical eyes of mis-placed Martha-style priorities, I was looking at the dust instead of welcoming my guests. I was seeing a house, instead of enjoying a home.
I don’t even mop the floor before company comes anymore, specifically because they’re just going to track in more dirt lol
I used to be much more ridiculous about this. I’ve gotten better 馃檪
I鈥檓 learning that it鈥檚 a learning process! 馃槈 Wish you all could come track dirt on my floor. 馃槈
Ah, I see you also possess the gift of hospitality. I once did what you describe before someone visited. Now, at 67, I’ve learned they never see what I see. Oh, joy! God has answered another prayer.
I’m not sure I possess the gift, but I’m trying to give it! It’s a learning process–a different way of thinking about hospitality and having company. And definitely something to pray about.
Righto, sister, friend, keeper of the home – when we invite people into our space, we need to remember that our invitations are more about them being guests of our hearts than it is about them being critics of our housekeeping skills. And if we erroneously expect the flip to be true, I reckon we need to rearrange our attitudes before we invite any others in.
Blessings.
So true, friend. Yet somehow I need reminded of it over and over again.
Thanks for loving me, dirt and dustbunnies and all. 馃檪
Thank you for the lovely reminder, Gretchen! I have only one little so far, and she’s not big enough to make too much of a mess, but it is a blessing to know that we are to welcome our guests to a home, not a showroom. And the fellowship is always better that way. 馃檪
Amen! Thank you for commenting, Annie. Blessings to your home and family.
How true! We never really see our homes through the eyes of our guests, do we? I know that I often see it through the eyes of Martha Stewart/ Mrs. Pinterest 馃槈
Oh, and by the way, you made the visit sound so real; I could almost hear the laughter and smell the food and I looked over to see what books you were talking about…
I am glad I am not the only one who struggles with this. 馃檪 And I do wish you could just pop in for a visit, sweet blog commenter and friend… I would share my bookshelves and my aprons. 馃檪