Welcome to my four week series on Hospitality! I'd like to begin with a little story that I wrote when my two oldest children were little. I shared this recently at a women's retreat and I think it fits nicely here as one example of the frustration I have encountered trying to live up to the hospitality standard I have set for myself. More on that next week . . . today we will just share a laugh at my expense! :)
"THE DAY I BURNED MY 'JOY OF HOUSEKEEPING' BOOK"
The day started normally enough. It was the middle of winter. I lived in the country and had two adorable children, my five-year-old daughter E, and her younger brother, K, a year-and-a-half old toddler. Blizzard after blizzard had dumped their frigid loads of snow outside our home, so I had been forced to remain inside with my two children day after day for what seemed like forever. And since we lived quite a ways from town, my social life had plummeted to below zero along with the outside temperatures. And yes, I was well into a heavy onset of Cabin Fever.
My normally adorable children were losing some of their charm, the wood stove was roaring and, nearly every time I turned around, K had popped another wood chip into his mouth.
The one bright spot in my day was the fact that we were expecting company that evening. I had offered to host a church committee meeting and was eagerly anticipating the welcome social interlude.
Of course, I needed some quality time to get my house presentable, so I took play dough out of the cupboard with which to occupy E and K. With both children contentedly playing at the kitchen table, I grabbed my rag and vacuum cleaner and attacked the dust and dirt.
"Mommy!" A bone chilling scream interrupted me ten minutes later. Rushing into the kitchen, I found E extremely upset. "K got play dough in my eye!" she yelled.
Sure enough. There was a tiny blue spot on the white part of her eyeball.
"How on earth did he do that?" I tried to assess the situation. "Does it hurt?"
She shook her head and peered up at me solemnly.
K finished rolling his little blue worms and trotted off innocently to find more wood chips.
I gingerly removed the blue speck with a clean handkerchief and helped E put the play dough away.
After removing another wood chip from K's mouth, I settled the children in the living room playing with their Fisher Price little people set. Since the kids' bedroom was carpeted, I usually let them play in the small section of hard floor by the front entry door so the little people wouldn't tip over easily. The small, detailed village has a theater, post office, dentist office, fire station, bank, school, just about everything a proper little village needs.
Their contentment lasted about five minutes this time until E began to squeal, "Mommy, K is knocking my people over!"
"Oh, look out, Little People!" I yelled, getting into the sprit of the game. "The Baby Monster is coming!"
K, the cooperative Baby Monster, grinned gleefully and lumbered further into their midst.
"Look out!" E echoed, clapping her hands with delight. "The Baby Monster is coming!"
Congratulating myself on the burst of creative thinking, I returned to my Vacuuming Monster. I generally didn't encourage my kids to play "monsters," but this seemed an acceptable time to make an exception.
Crash! My head jerked around to see hundreds of glass silvers cascade through the air and land precisely in the middle of the little play village. The Baby Monster had knocked the lamp off of the end table near the door.
Fortunately unhurt, my two little darlings stepped back and eyed the tragic scene in amazement.
"Mommy, look what K did!" E pointed her chubby finger at the accused. Tears rolled out of K's eyes. "No, me! No, me!" he protested.
I quickly hugged both kids, thankful there were no injuries. Then I turned my attention to the carastrophic disaster. Miraculously, all the little people survived the explosion, although the little ambulance was extremely busy the rest of the afternoon.
So was I. Separating all the little figures from all the minute slivers of glass took a considerable amount of time. I fancied I could hear my vauum cleaner calling impatiently in the background and my dust rag sobbing uncontrollably.
At 4:00, I finally dumped the final pieces of glass in the garbage and tucked the last little person into his storage box. Hands on my hips, I surveyed my unpresentable house and heaved a huge sigh of despondency. Churning emotions of revenge and rebellion mingled deliciously in my tormented mind.
That was the moment I grabbed my "Joy of Housekeeping" manual that had no advice whatsoever about removing play dough from a child's eye or how to cope with a little village disaster, strode triumphantly to the wood stove and threw it into the blazing fire where it belonged.
Satisfied with my moment of revenge, I grabbed the mop and frantically tackled the kitchen floor with renewed energy.
Two hours later, after much feverish activity, my house sparkled and the telephone rang.
The committee meeting had been cancelled due to another blizzard on the way.
Hope you enjoyed the story! I blogged it while sitting here in the lovely, warm Hospitality Room in the Land of Abundant Living. According to the Bible, God places a high value on the practice of hospitality, so next week, we'll check into that and also begin to talk about ways of looking at and approaching hospitality. Later on, we'll check out some tips from contributors!
No comments:
Post a Comment