I hosted my first real dinner party at my house last night. You know, the kind where you get out the nice dishes and sit in the dining room? ( Sorry to anyone who’s been to my house recently…you didn’t get a real dinner party, I guess
).
I have to admit, though, I was nervous. Not about what we would talk about, whether my children would be obnoxious or break a dish, or whether my food would taste okay (…well, maybe a little about that). I was mostly nervous about whether anyone would fall off our crumbling chairs that are part of our crumbling dining room set. So the pie in the sky dream is that I could go out and buy that brand new set I’ve been mooning over online for many months now. But, the reality is that I just can’t do it. And there’s no hope of it happening anytime soon, either.
So I was forced to make a decision: should I, then, not invite guests over or should I just deal with my aging, innefficient set that left some sitting on metal folding chairs and my kids at a separate table? My decision, obviously, was the latter. Why?
Because it seemed to me that this scenario was a little like the Mary & Martha scenario found in Luke 10. These women had the privilege of hosting Jesus in their home. Martha busilly scurried around trying to make everything perfect, while Mary simply sat at the feet of Jesus soaking in her time with him. I realized that I could scurry around trying to make everything perfect, or worse yet, not even have guests over. Or I could do my best to prepare for them, and then just enjoy the opportunity to bless people who were new and struggling to meet people.
I’m glad my pride didn’t get in the way of a wonderful night. I’m thankful that my food didn’t burn, that my kids were (mostly) well behaved, and that no one fell off a chair! I think I’ll do this again, metal chairs and all…




