Housekeeping is not my strength, and with the busyness of my
days at the moment, I have really dropped the ball. Even I have a limit to the
untidiness I can tolerate, though, so here I was last night, cleaning house at 9.15.
I heard the car pull up and stop. I was expecting Don back from a meeting. I
was not expecting him to bring some Syrian friends with him.
I greeted them at the door, duster in hand, face flushed
with embarrassment that they should encounter such a mess. They were gracious,
happy to be here. I found a packet of nice biscuits but it was the end of a
Ramadan day for them, and I was mortified that I couldn’t really think of
anything more substantial to offer them, like a big cheese scone or something
with their tea!
We enjoyed our conversation. We shared our lives, our
experiences. Our cup of tea.
Sometimes we stress that we need to have everything in
order, everything perfect, before we open our doors and invite the stranger in.
Jesus surprised me last night by bringing the sisters to my door in the middle
of my disarray. An untidy room doesn’t matter. An inhospitable heart does.
