About a month ago, I was in one of those places.
I think at some point, in some way, we’ve all probably been there.
A lot of things had piled up, and I felt like I’d been in the desert for a really long time. It’s dry. It’s long. It’s disparaging. When will these feelings, this place, relinquish already?
So long I had been there, that the grit and sand and dust had caked themselves onto everything, and I’d pretty much given up looking for an oasis of any kind, let alone try. I was starting to refer to it as living in the grey.
I’ve always been a real the-grass-is-greener-where-you-water kinda gal but lately, not so much. I was trudging along as if caught in a desert infused, angry sand storm. Just making it to the next point, wherever that may be. It’s in one of those places that can feel so overwhelming, you’re not really sure what to do next.
The scary part, was that I had been there for so long, that I was wearing a mask of all that dirt and grime.
It had packed itself into my pores, my bones, my very being, and it was serving as quite the convincing disguise. It was easier to hide my feelings that way. To react in anger occasionally, and then minimize my problems and feelings… diagnose them as “it could always be worse” and move on.
The danger in that was that I was learning to coexist with it. Beyond toleration, it was a part of me. And I distanced myself because of it. Minimizing has become a special talent of mine, because I can tuck them away neatly where they belong in the baggage section reserved for ‘issues nobody has time for’. I guess you could say I have a compartmentalizing problem.
But it only made me feel more alone.
Alone, is the very last place you need to be.
It was a girls night… the first one in a while, in which the four of us, like-minded souls from four different walks of life, cherish our time together. I’ve found myself relishing in these occasional escapes with a certain fondness. We guard our hard-to-find time with a ferocity that makes a night when we can get together, worth it.
And there we were at the table, between sushi and spirited laughs that the conversation took a sudden turn. I’m not sure how it got there, but someone asked me a question, and there I was, fumbling for an answer.
Have you ever watched your very own train wreck in the form of un-tethered emotions escape right before your eyes? In retrospect, it’s as if you’re disconnected in some weird sci-fi, out-of-body experience, trying your darndest to reel it in. This is while your mouth, no longer connected to the rational side of your brain, just spills it. Those neurons that transmit all rational thought are now acting independently, right from the heart.
There was no turning back.
Commence the ugly cry, in which I probably spent a good thirty minutes spilling it all.
I just kept talking. Followed by apology after apology for ‘being this way’, then following up with a fresh outburst of honesty. Then more ill-fated apologies. Then another round of minimizing.
Wheeee! I’m a lot of fun to be around when I completely lose all sense of self preservation.
When I finally looked up between fresh sobs and awkward laughter, I realized something had happened. That mask, the dirty one I’d been wearing made from my caked up desert storm survival mode issues, was gone.
And there I was, totally vulnerable. For the first time in a long time.
Crying. In the middle of a restaurant.
I’ve been thinking a lot about the art of hospitality, probably for the past year. The idea of it. It’s something that southerners pride themselves in, and in our little culture, we run the high risk of becoming walking Stepford Wife stereotypes melded with the fried chicken Church Lady with a dash of Steel Magnolias. Something I find both strangely comforting and terrifying all at the same time.
It’s something I only thought I understood.
Once upon a time, I was foolish to think it was all about our home. How I could make it pretty visually, was what I could do to make others feel welcome. I would vacuum and then open up my doors and offer up a place for others to feel comfortable and loved. But it turned into the pressure of creating a showcase for others to visit, and somehow my good intentions were lost in translation with fluffy pillows, pretty plates and good recipes. The true heart of the matter was left by the wayside.
And I was wrong.
Hospitality, true honest hospitality, is a fine art cultivated over time.
I think we’ve all been in homes where we know we weren’t really welcome. It may have been the timing, or just the day was off, or the host was stressed by all of the people. Maybe they just weren’t in a place to offer such a thing, but their boundaries were muddled and so we were crowding their space without even realizing it. Maybe they were exhausted, and we felt bad for being there. It would have been a public service kinda favor to reel it in, and call it a night. Thanks for the good times, catch ya on the flip side. Maybe there have been situations where we were that host.
I probably have been in the past. Let’s be honest, I have a penchant for uptight.
And in contrast to that, I think we’ve been in moments where it’s been honed in as a fine art and we were able to witness it first hand. We’ve probably met that amazing host who made us feel at ease. It’s emulated by a wise person who made us comfortable for reasons we couldn’t quite put a finger on. Sure, the beauty of a home, or the yummy food, is nice. But there’s something beyond the frill of it all where someone just got it. They understood the point because they created space.
A space where a person can come forward with all that baggage, with all that anger and frustration and remove that dirty, tired mask to shake off their messy clumps of desert sand… and just be.
I always thought hospitality required a physical place. And that night, at that table with three brilliant women, I learned very quickly that hospitality is simply a space cultivated for the vulnerable to just be.
via
There I sat, laughing awkwardly when the waiter came back to the table in between my cries for relatable honesty.
And there they were.
My friends, they met me where I was. With sincere, real, relatable honesty, for me. I stopped apologizing for making it the ‘Ashley hour’ {eventually} and I felt better. Because they listened, they cared and they made no judgements of any kind. They were just there in that moment, creating a space when I needed it.
They may not have fully understood. They may not have fully agreed. And yet they never made me feel that way. Regardless of their own feelings, they had my back. I felt the freedom to say what I was really feeling and I felt loved. I felt safe. I felt free.
In that moment, another hard lesson was realized:
When was the last time I created that space for someone else?
Sure, I do it for my family. I feel like I do it for my friends, but do I make myself readily available, or do I keep my nose too close to that grindstone to notice what’s really going on around me?
Do I do it for non friends? Would I do it for a total stranger?
Looking at that list, I can pretty easily say yes to the first two {family and friends}, but even those need some tweaking. Yet for total strangers? For someone I may even consider an enemy? This is the part where I look down at my feet and shuffle awkwardly at the floor while I start muttering excuses. That’s a hard truth, and for a while, I’ve been really bad at that.
I’ve been burned. So for quite a few years, I hid away and minimized. I built walls and wore masks. I became really good at cultivating my own private space where I wasn’t allowed to feel vulnerable anymore, and didn’t give others the space to feel that way around me. I’m working through my issues and stripping away the entrenched traditions of a church culture that we {Jamin and I} spent years in ministry together. To the point where it began to affect our marriage… And we’ve spent months now, going back to ask hard questions of ourselves.
I do believe at times, we’ve lost sight of who we’re called to be along the way. Because I’m finding that when I struggle past all of the fluff and worry and requirements and politics and people pleasing and lists of stress and judgement and what we think is expected of us in old traditions to find who Christ really is, He never left.
He’s there. He’s constant. And he calls us, and needs us to be hospitable people in a world of strangers who have never felt welcome.
If we can’t do it… who can?
Fabulously appropriate quote via the nester that I stumbled across –along with another post on the topic of hospitality in the home ;}
It’s time to lose my mask and tear down my walls and stop being so focused on my own anger and pent up resentment, so I can offer space for someone else.
In the middle of the chaos, in the midst of the crazy schedules and to do lists and never ending social engagements, and all the holidaisical hooplah, I think the most important thing we can do in our own lives is strip that glitter and glaze and all the pretty things. Forget the wrapping and the ribbons and all the trimmings.
And see people as we’re supposed to see them.
To meet them where they are, and let them feel vulnerable.
To create that space, and let others just be.
Dirty laundry is smelly for a reason. My own personal baggage is filled with years of it, packed in, crusty and tight. But that’s more than okay. In the end, all our ‘issues’ that we’re working through help us create those spaces when we’re finally ready to acknowledge what we need to do. They help us become empathetic, genuine, relatable, vulnerable beings.
So here’s to the imperfect, vulnerable hospitality where we take the time to create space for others in our own little corners.
Because the world, and its broken tired people living in the grey, need a little more of that.
Pam M says
Standing ovation here. I so relate to this post. My husband and I have also been asking those same hard question (also after years of ministry). It seems to me that a lot of people are. I feel like it’s time to let go of religion (that’s what killed Jesus) and get to the real heart of the gospel which is all about relationships. That’s what Jesus came for. In this digital age people are becoming more and more disconnected, but I think we’re all hungry for the same thing: to simply love and be loved for who we are and not what we have or do. Thank you for this post. I’m so glad you’ve got a group of gals you can have that with. I’m happy for your breakthrough and pray it keeps on going. 🙂
Michael @ Crafty Dad.com says
Amen Pam! Perfectly-said. : )
ashley @ the handmade home says
Pam, thank you so much for the reminder. It’s refreshing to know we’re not alone in our questions, growth and struggles. And I LOVE that quote – religion killed Jesus. I need to remind myself of that often. ;}
Anna says
Thank you for your beautiful transparency
Heather F says
It is very brave of you to be so open and honest on this open forum. You are not alone. I hope you find your peace in this.
Layla K says
I love this post. Thank you.
lois says
amen to all that!
Donna says
Thank you for putting into words what I have felt for a very long time. I love your honesty. You are so fortunate to have such lovely friends who love and accept you, the real you. May peace be with you and your family always.
ashley @ the handmade home says
Thank you Donna. It’s something I’ve really been struggling with… maybe in different ways all my life, and it’s refreshing to know we’re not alone.
Michael @ CraftyDad.com says
Wow. This was so good (and so intense) that I had to read it twice. I’m thinking of printing it too. There’s just so much GOOD in this post.
So much TRUTH. For many of us. (Me included.)
I’m writing a ‘manifesto’ of sorts for 2015. Some important values and beliefs that I want to start living out. It’s time to cut through all the crap and start being who I am called to be. And to serve others. In whatever capacity that may be. I’ve become lazy and complacent. And that’s bad. Very bad.
Thank you for sharing your thoughts with us.
Perfect timing too. As this could be the best Christmas gift a lot of us get this year. ♥
ashley @ the handmade home says
You’re not alone, Michael! Not alone at all! I hope you share your manifesto – I want to read! ;}
Michael @ CraftyDad.com says
Ashley –
Yes, I’ll share my manifesto — for sure!
You’ll be one of the first to see it.
Thanks again for such an open, honest post. It was AWESOME, sister!
Dawna says
Hey Chandy twin,,,,thanks for sharing your heart and for making me think about why I have people into my home. I have always enjoyed being hospitable, operating our BnB and Tea Room was a wonderful fit for that,,,,,and that was for sure welcoming strangers into our lives. But,,your words hit me hard, that it is easy to have friends and family in,,,,but have I really allowed myself to be open and vulnerable with them,,,sometimes not so much. Loved your idea that being hospitable does not require a “space”…. My dear friend, who I can be transparent with, shared something with me when I was getting ready to open our tea room business, and I think of those words often as I still entertain guests in my home , she said ” I will pray that your Tea Room will be a place of peace and quietness to all who enter, that God’s prescense would fill each little room and that your guests would leave feeling renewed though they maybe unaware that the Spirit of God touched them” I still have those words tucked away in my Bible, dated Aug 6/98 Although we have moved away from the property where I had our business, I still know that we can touch others,,,,and be hospitable, for the right reasons! Thanks for your post today,,,sorry about the mini series!!
ashley @ the handmade home says
I love this. I think that we get caught up in the every day and there’s so much we don’t really consider. And I love this. My heart is with you, Dawna! And for what it’s worth, I love your mini series. Don’t apologize for sharing!
Danielle says
Girl, I want to give you a big hug and thank you for your vulnerability here on your very public blog ! Your brokenness and honesty is a breath of fresh air and this is the “side” of you that I am most blessed by. This post is a perfect reminder for us right now as we are all busy hosting and fluffing our homes- of what will really reflect Jesus to others. Merry Christmas to you and may you find HIS hospitality most refreshing this Christmas season.
ashley @ the handmade home says
Sometimes, and by sometimes I mean most of the time, I visibly cringe right before hitting publish. Thank you for your encouraging words!
Jami says
Thank you so much for sharing very personal moments and struggles. It is refreshing t know that all of or lives are imperfect. Thank goodness for Christ, who never leaves our side, and who helps to lift our every burden. I, too, feel like I have to have the perfect living space for someone to enter in, but in all reality, that is never going to happen. I am always going to have messes and dirty laundry and dirty dishes in the sink. It’s life. And if I wait until it is perfect, I will be helping no one. Your post is helping me to realize that we should be more worried about caring for people, and not the perfectness (is that even a word?:)) of our surroundings. That is what the Savior did while he was on this earth. Thank you so much for sharing!
ashley @ the handmade home says
I am with you, Jami… You said it better than me! Thank you for your kind words!
hollisamps says
Your timing and honesty are incredible. I think we’ve all had those moments, those “me” moments that turn into “us” moments that are so big that the impact of them is immediately recognizable.
Personally, I’m Catholic, and have never taken conscious part in any ministry. I don’t view any religion as the destination so much as the route one takes to realizing God’s breath in all of us. Because that’s what I think we’re all working towards—a breath of a whisper of a chosen path. And it’s hard to hear and hard to find. It takes work and constant self-critique.
Thank you for your bravery in posting something so raw.
Sharon P says
Thank you for this. I needed to hear it at this very moment.
Ashleigh Hall says
Thank you as always for your beautiful, brutal honesty and laying your heart bare! You are an amazing woman! Praying for you Ashley!
ashley @ the handmade home says
Thank you, Ashleigh for your sweet heart + kind words!
Jessica says
Yes, girl, yes. I’ve been so out of reading blogs, and leave it to you and your words of truth and honesty and important vulnerability to reel me in. To meet me in my own grey and let me know I’m not alone. To say Yes and Amen and let’s do this hospitality stuff. Let’s make ourselves these vessels of giving and receiving and being true. Thank you.
Barbi says
Thank-You so very much for this post. This is the best gift I will receive this holiday season, I REALLY needed to hear this! I was raised that everything always had to be “PERFECT” when in reality nothing was. But, as children we don’t always see the big picture, we haven’t matured yet. Anyways, after a few years of marriage and motherhood I realize this isn’t a good way to be and I’ve spent years trying to find me and not that perfectionism. I wish I would of done a lot of things differently. You are so blessed to have a good support system.I truly hope you can leave the mask behind and walk forward without it and really feel good about yourself and your life. I will wish this for you as my gift to you. Thank-You so very much for this gift, you are a little elf to all of us. Merry Christmas and Best of Wishes in 2015!!
Char says
Thank you, thank you, thank you. I’ve been going through one of the truly worst periods of my life (and I’m old enough to really know what “worst” means). I, too, have been covered in gray so long that I had forgotten that other colors exist. Thank you for reminding me that I am not in this alone, that its OK to ask for help and help doesn’t always come from the direction most expected. May your days be filled with the people and traditions you love and value the most.
Susan says
I came here from a link on Thistlewood Farm and I’m so glad I did as this was a message I needed at this moment. I don’t generally comment on blogs, preferring just to lurk, but felt compelled to let you know that what you’ve written here has touched me deeply and helped me to let go and release that big ol’ ugly cry locked up inside of me and I want to thank you with a full and grateful heart. I just wanted to let you know. Thank you and please keep sharing!
Susan says
Upon further reflection I also wanted to add that, yes, Ashley, whether you know it or not, you DO create “that space” for strangers. You just did it for me with this post. Thank you for your hospitality; it won’t go forgotten!