One of the core reasons folks love the South is the way we define community. We’re the people that will welcome you in, feed you, pray with you and try our best to show up in the messy middle– even when its inconvenient. I don’t know about you, but I feel like I’ve needed to “perform” it. Having it all together so I can help others, show up for them and live the values I was taught. It became more of a chore than a blessing, and that’s when I felt a stirring inside that needed to change.
Somehow, someway my approach to hospitality became another thing on the to do list. Write the thank you note. Invite them to dinner. Send the text. It became more about the task and less about the heart of it all. I also thought if I didn’t show up exactly “right”, I shouldn’t try at all. If my space wasn’t right, if I didn’t have the right menu, set up and “moment” it wasn’t worth doing at all.
There is a wisdom to putting your best foot forward and showing folks that you care– but when it becomes dogmatic, its depleting. Last month, I posted a semi-viral reel about an exchange I had a Trader Joes during my weekly run. I was in the checkout line, chatting it up with the cashier as we tend to do down here and she looked at my selection of blooms. At checkout, the sweet cashier complimented my selections— tulips, peonies, hydrangeas and stock. She really liked the colors and textures I selected and asked if I was throwing a party. I told her, smiling back, that I’m not and I really like having fresh blooms around the place. Having them on the kitchen counter, coffee table, and entry way really brightens my mood.
She did something unexpected. Her smile faded. She kept scanning all my items and said, softly, ‘I could use some of that brightness in my life’.I paused. For years, I only bought flowers when I was hosting, treating my own joy like a prop for an audience. I’d curate the “perfect home” for everyone but the person who actually lived there.“I used to wait for an excuse, too,” I told her. “But I realized I was performing a life for people who don’t even live in my house. Now, I buy them because I’m the only audience that matters.” I pulled the yellow tulips from my bag and handed them to her.
“Put these in a coffee mug on your nightstand tonight,” I said. “Not for a party or a guest. Just because you deserve to look at something beautiful while you wake up.”Her smile changed then. It wasn’t the practiced version she gave the line; it was something real. I walked to my car realizing that beauty doesn’t need a witness to be valid, and the best things we do are the ones we do for no one but ourselves.
That 3 minute interaction was arguably the most hospitable I’ve been in years. Unplanned, unprompted, unpolished. Just taking a minute to see the person in front of me, listen to the Spirit and offer what I could to make someone’s day one shade brighter. But this moment of reflection didn’t stop there, when I shared this story (on a whim I might add), the comments revealed something so real.
We’re all hungry for real hospitality. Not the fluff. Not the right social graces. The kind of hospitality that puts the human in the center. Now how do we get there? I don’t have all the answers, but a few ideas come to mind. We focus less on the performance– the entertaining, the pomp, the surroundings and we focus more on the people– their needs, their feelings and what’s going on in their life. It’s looking at the human in front of you—a stranger, a cashier, a coworker and realizing they need a piece of the brightness you’re carrying.
Our world is beyond heavy right now. We feel more divided than ever, and reconciliation feels like it may never happen. We’re exposed to so much more, which in my opinion is a good thing. We can’t turn a blind eye to the atrocities of all the communities around us. It forces us to question, to see, to confront. Its hard, and its uncomfortable but this type of perspective is exactly what we need to live up to our Southern ideals. We need to share our pains and our joys with the people around us. We need to live out Matthew 5:16 to the fullest extent and not hoard our light. We need to be open to receiving the light from others, too.True hospitality isn’t simply about being polite or polished; it’s the willingness to disrupt your own day to hand someone a piece of beauty, simply because they admitted they lacked it.
I know, its all nice in theory right? But what I’m getting at here isn’t an overly sacrificial stance or bleeding heart syndrome– its leaning into our hospitable humanity. As I’ve been reflecting, I think it takes two parts:
- Generosity Outward: Eyes that see, a heart that feels, a mind that considers, a Spirit that guides you to be the hands and feet of Jesus. Its not about the stuff, even though presentation and the details do show you care. Its about being open, ready to receive and act the way God is calling you to.
- Generosity Inward: Believing that you are worthy of that same light and love as you move through the world. Reserve a little hospitality for your self. Listen to yourself. Spend time with the Lord so you’re ready to show up in the world.
If you’re kind to the world but cold to yourself, your hospitality is empty. Don’t hoard the best parts of your humanity for a special occasion, wildly share the overflow with the people you meet along the way. I hope this inspires you, challenges you, and helps you redefine your own Southern hospitality.
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