Without Regard

God's hospitality bar

Almost fifteen years ago a job change for my husband led us to move with our three daughters and dog to our current home, which also required a change of schools and communities.

Nestled in a rural neighborhood, the home we bought was a new build located on a cul-de-sac in the back of the development. Most of our neighbors had moved in earlier that year while a handful of others moved in a few months later.

As we unpacked our things box by box, finding new places to put our dishes and pictures and books, my husband and I talked about ways to intentionally unpack our hearts in this new place too. We wanted to know our neighbors, to share not just a street address, but actual life with them.

A few months later I got talking to our across-the-street neighbor about how fun it would be to throw a party, so we teamed up to plan an old-fashioned holiday cookie exchange, the kind where each person bakes a ridiculous amount of cookies to divide and share with those who attend so that everyone goes home with a variety of sweet treats.

We printed invitations and bought party supplies and planned the party games. And that first year about seven women and a few children attended. We had a great time and vowed to do it again the following year.

Fourteen years running, we have invited the neighbors in our cul-de-sac and the cul-de-sac adjacent to ours — about eighteen families — into our home. At its peak, we had as many as ten of those families trek over with plates of cookies and appetizers to share. We came to love this tradition we had created with our fellow neighbors.

But lately we’ve noticed a downturn in attendance. As families in our cul-de-sac have come and gone, participation in the annual cookie exchange has also dwindled to the point where for the past three or four years, the same three families RSVP to the invitation with a “yes” while most others don’t even bother to acknowledge receiving an invitation.

The lackluster response has caused us to wonder if the tradition has run its course. Because of personal travel in December on top of the busyness of the holidays, this past Christmas in particular felt more challenging to schedule and execute. When two of the “regulars” reached out and wondered when it would be happening, we decided to move forward.

The night I set out to deliver the invitations was colder than I anticipated. The frigid air bit at my gloveless hands, so I picked up my pace. As I went from house to house with my grandson and granddaughter to slip invitations into door handles, I felt the cold begin to bite at my heart too.

Why are we still bothering with this party anyway?

Why do we keep inviting everyone when most of them don’t even bother to RSVP let alone attend?

Are our neighbors annoyed that we keep inviting them?

Why do we keep trying?

Maybe we should just invite the ones we know want to come.

After all, it’s a lot of work to host a party — at least that’s true at our house.

We clean corners we might otherwise overlook.

We scrub surfaces we might otherwise ignore.

We attend to atmosphere, curating a thoughtful space that makes guests feel comfortable and at ease.

And that’s when God gently interrupted my stingy thoughts, reminding me that he extends his invitation without regard for response.

He opens his arms wide and gives his heart graciously to us — whether none or all come.

My God sets the hospitality bar high.

Just as he invites each of us to relationship and life, generously preparing a place for any who might respond, so too we ought to generously prepare a place for all — without regard.

I’m not responsible for how others respond; I’m responsible for my invitation, for rolling out the welcome mat in my home, in my heart. And somehow as I do so, my capacity to love both God and neighbor expands as well. After all, loving God and loving neighbor have always been one in the same.

“You must love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your being, and with all your mind. This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: You must love your neighbor as you love yourself.” Matthew 22:37-39 CEB

So in light of God’s unrestrained invitation to all, I resolve to keep looking for ways to invite people into my life, into my home, into my heart — without regard for their response or attitude toward me. This is how I demonstrate love for God and neighbor.

Here’s to planning the fifteenth annual cookie exchange. . . .

Until next time,

Kerry