Holy Week Hospitality

My mama remembers her family gathering regularly for meals and holidays at the home of her grandparents, 2204, in Richmond. There were aunts, uncles and grandpa Max but no cousins. Mama, her sister and brother were the only grandchildren. On birthdays, Dada would bake a cake and it would be served on a special cake stand. That same cake stand now serves cake in my home. The Virginia state fair... a picnic supper and riding the rides, looking at the exhibits... was a grand occasion. Christmas was celebrated with the lighting of the tree and another wonderful meal prepared by my great aunt Dada. That grand old home, a welcoming gathering place for mama’s family, lives on in her memory and mine.
I remember my grandparent’s home in Virginia, Cloverly, as a family gathering place. Cousins, aunts, uncles, parents and grandparents... all were gathered in under the shade of the tall old trees that shaded the yard. Games of horseshoes, croquet, Chinese checkers, hide and seek in the cornfield, fireworks at Christmas, rocking chair porch conversations, creaky white iron beds and a curved bannister for sliding down to breakfast fireman style, a green moss covered lumpy brick walk that led straight to the heart of our family... home. Whenever I need to, I can return to that safe place, that place of hospitality, in my heart’s eye and once again feel loved and safe.
These memories of family gathering places came to mind when I read the story of the disciples being sent to find a place for the last Passover meal. Two of the gospels agree on the story of how it came to be. "Go into the city, and a man carrying a jar of water will meet you; follow him, and wherever he enters, say to the householder ‘The Teacher says, Where is my guest room where I am to eat the Passover with my disciples?’ and he will show you a large upper room furnished and ready; there prepare for us."
The householder is never named but he must have been a part of Jesus’ extended family, perhaps his family of choice. Jesus knew the room, described it and gave specific instructions on how to find it. It was a large room that was ready for the last family gathering before everything changed forever. Hospitality... a spiritual gift... an opportunity to entertain the Son of God.
Our children say there is always someone coming or going at our house and that is true. Michael and I value the gift of hospitality. We have been given much... children, work to do, a farm, a house built with love, grandchildren, Junie B, friends who are family, parents who loved us, homes and church homes that made us welcome. How can we not offer our upper rooms? Perhaps we too have entertained angels and children of God unaware. So I will continue to mop floors, clean rugs, wash dishes, make beds, cook soup and wait for the next guest to arrive. They are all welcome in the name of the One who welcomed me into the Kingdom of God.

Holy Week Porch Stories

As a child, I loved sitting on porches listening in as the grownups told stories and talked about family and friends. If you were quiet, you could hear some really good tales that normally were not considered appropriate for children’s ears. The problem was sometimes the stories were different depending on whose porch you were sitting and who was telling the tale.
When Grandma told the story of Granddaddy leaving home during World War I, it was a different story than the one told by my great-uncle and great aunt. The basics were the same... he left home... but the details were worlds apart. Stories my daddy told me about his growing up were not the same stories my Uncle Harold told me years later. And at the beach when our family sits around telling growing up stories, the children’s memories are not the same as ours even if we are remembering the same story. I am reading the stories of Holy Week in all four gospels at the same time. Like all good family stories, the details differ depending upon who is telling the story.
Matthew and Mark have Jesus’ last social occasion at Simon the Leper’s house. Luke doesn’t mention it but John says he ate with Mary, Martha and Lazarus. According to John’s story, it was Mary who poured the expensive ointment over his feet and wiped them with her hair. When Judas spoke up complaining about the wasted resources, Jesus speaks plainly about his impending death. "Let her alone. Let her keep it for the day of my burial. The poor will always be with you and you will be able to minister to them but you will not always have me." The Bethany family were special to Jesus and I can imagine the great love she had for him. It makes sense to me that Mary would have honored her beloved teacher this way. It must have been a scandal, a porch tale worth telling, since it has survived the centuries and ended up in the canon.
What would I do, what scandalous behavior am I willing to offer up this Holy Week out of love for Jesus? Mopping up muddy floors after the Easter Egg Hunt is a small scandal but not the overflowing outrageous overflow of love and grief that Mary modeled for us. Somewhere in this week to come, I will bathe Jesus feet to honor Sister Mary who showed us the way. May it be so, Lord Jesus.

silver clouds with dark linings....

Today is the big day... the Easter Egg Hunt at Sabbath Rest Farm. For eleven years children from our church have come to our house bearing eggs and baskets looking for a party to happen. We eat, then Michael takes all the children on a hayride while the eggs are hidden. Long before the tractor tops the hill at our house, you can hear the laughter and squealing. Many of these children were babies or toddlers when they first began coming to the egg hunt but the pleasure has not dimmed over the years. We started this tradition while we were living in town and there were only three children in the church. Now we have over sixty children and at least half of them come. I’ve learned some lessons from the egg hunt over the years.
The first lesson I learned after about five years was to pick up but not clean up before the thundering herd comes. You can dust and vacuum and mop but three minutes after a gaggle of children march through the house, there is no line of demarcation between clean and dirty. It is all dirty. So preparation for a party is more about the guest and less about me. If what is needed is provided, in this case, food and working bathrooms, the outdoors and eggs a plenty for finding, dust on my bedside table is irrelevant. So now I can have as much fun as the children without feeling like I have to be perfectly presented.
The second lesson I have learned is how to rejoice regardless of the circumstances. The children know how to live joyfully, fully present in the moment. The year it rained was as much fun as the sunshine years. Children’s laughter does not need a reason to be. It just is. Excitement and joy trump worry and grief for this one afternoon in my life and I am grateful for the gift.
The most important lesson, however, is the "silver cloud with a dark lining" lesson. It has taken me years to learn this lesson and some days it feels like I am learning it for the first time again. The old song’s words told us to "look for the silver lining the dark clouds" when we were experiencing difficult times. Much like Paul’s words... All things work to good for those who love the Lord... these words help us see possibilities in grief and loss and anger and fear.
But today, Palm Sunday, the first day of our Holy Week, the opposite is true. The silver cloud of the parade with palms and rejoicing is edged with the fast approaching darkness of persecution and death. We know what is coming and we dread it... there will be no last minute rescue from death. Yet even with the knowledge of the future, we must take hope and heart in the joy of the moment. Lifegift is never all one or the other. There is always joy and light in the darkest hour just as the knowledge of grief and loss sweetens the silver cloud hours. I am learning still how to be thankful whatever the state of my being.
So for today, I will giggle and laugh. I will take pleasure in watching children ride Junie B. When the children scatter to the four winds running like turkeys flushed from the woods looking for eggs stuffed with candy, I will remember all the silver clouds in my larger sky. I will give thanks for the One who loves me and stands by me through darkness and light. I am grateful for all that has been and all that is yet to be. Tomorrow is soon enough for the dark lining.