Poop and Waffles
After Community Group one night a friend said: “I don’t get it. WHY was a waffle up in my daughter’s bed? She knows better, we don’t have food up there. What is going on with the kids in Community Group?” He’s a jokester dad, and was laughing in his perplexity.
I sheepishly replied: “That was my daughter who was walking around with a waffle at your house. And she told me later she was eating it in your daughter’s bed! I am SO sorry. She also should know better.”
In case you’re wondering, we had breakfast for Community Group dinner that night. All 25 of us - 12 kids and 13 adults. My husband replies to his friend: “Waffles, really? That’s nothing. We’ve had poop on our walls after CG. Twice.”
I love a good one-up story involving poop.
Waffle-perplexed Dad just fell over in laughter. "NO WAY! What are you even TALKING about?!?"
“I’m talking about poop on my walls! That’s all I am talking about!”
No one could stop laughing at this point.
Poop and Waffles.
Both and more are par for the course with hosting and hospitality and looking at your home and wanting to claim it as yours. Ahhh, but those beds and bathrooms are not ours. They are the King's things. Tables, chairs, lovely carpet, newly painted walls, nice mulched flower beds. Nothing is ours. We care for it. We are entrusted with it. But God, by his grace, gives all things.
He started with our very breath. We started as dust and we will end that way. We take nothing with us and what is here - He is lending.
He’s a Gracious Lender, is He not?
But I keep forgetting.
I keep forgetting and I get frustrated. I open my home and I say Come In and Stay and Make Yourself at Home and Be Like Family Here.
Except if you poop on my wall.
Or if you track mud from one end of my house to another.
Or if you kick your soccer ball into my front window and crack it.
Or if you break my new favorite mug from a special store.
Hospitality is hard if your perspective is that It’s All Mine. If you have an "except..." in there - it may be time to see what's there.
But if I shift my seat and maybe even take the whole chair to another window - the King's window - then it's a whole new view. A whole new ballgame.
Where God is pitching and I am the catcher. Trusting that what is coming my way will land in my glove. And if it hurts, He will take care of it. If I have to reach or lunge, then He's also well aware of that pitch and what I have to do to catch it. Learning to trust - as I call everything His - that He is actually taking care of it WAY better than I am anyway.
He can do what He see fits with "my" stuff; even if He (gasp!) wants to sanctify me with my very own stuff.
So I practice little one-line prayers and statements while scrubbing who knows what off my floors and walls and chairs.
Thankfulness is a great cleanser:
Thank you for this floor. And this safe place. For this space.
Thank you for the amount of people who came into contact with those who love Jesus, in this house.
Lord, I lay down bitterness. It's all Yours.
It's all Yours.
It's all Yours.
To You be the glory, in my heart and my home.
It's all Yours.