When preparing to have people over to our home, I often have a flashback to me at my worst as a hostess. I don't even remember all of the specifics; I just remember that I was holding infant Toby while barking out rushed orders to Mark to get the last details taken care of before friends came over. I also remember still barking when I heard knocking at the door. How welcoming is a place when you walk right into stress?
Zip forward seven years, and I am at a friend's house. I am relieved to see that the sun shining through the picture window reveals kid hand prints, and that there is dust lying comfortably on a far off display table. We can be real here, and so can my kids. We chat, laugh at kid antics, step over toys. I leave feeling refreshed, known, myself.
I heard a statement recently that there are two kinds of people in the world: those who enter a room and say, "Here I am!" and those who enter a room and say, "There you are!" And I think that applies to hospitality as well. When having guests, I can be focused on our personal presentation - the cleanliness, aroma, food quality, child behavior, conversation contributions - or I can be focused on our guests, welcoming them and being completely in the moment with them.
Hospitality is not about having an amazing house or menu; rather it is about the amazing gift of sharing life together - real life.
Keeping that in mind, if we are having expected guests, I do still try to sanitize the bathroom - we are, you know, a five-male+one-chick household sharing one bathroom. I make sure there is room for friends to hang up jackets, a decent path to walk through the toys. If I remember, I'll light a candle to make sure that the aromatics are pleasant no matter what happened before guest arrival. But there probably will be some playground mulch on the floor somewhere, a laundry basket overflowing in the bedroom hallway, and boys' rooms looking well-used. There will be dishes in the sink and on the counter, probably lunchboxes too.
Because this is real life. And it is amazing to share it together.
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The first time we ever had anyone over was back in the one-bedroom-apartment, super-small-grocery-budget days. I was making tuna noodle casserole for the first time, and a friend of ours stopped over. We asked him if he wanted to stay for dinner, while internally I was embarrassed over the fare and wondering if it was even going to turn out. But at the end of the meal, he said how wonderful it was to have tuna noodle - he was in the States without his family and hadn't had a homey meal like that in years.
And that is the beauty of sharing real life.
So I don't do pinterest meals when friends come over - I do tried and true recipes. One of our favorites (and one of the reigning favorites among our guests) is my Grandma Vera's pumpkin casserole, and Grandma kindly is letting us share it with you! It is simple and delicious, and a dollop of whipped cream makes presentation no sweat.
~photos thanks to Eli~
Pumpkin Casserole
1 can of evaporated milk (12 oz)
1 stick of butter, melted
1 cup of granulated sugar
4 eggs
1/4 tsp. of salt
1 tsp of pumpkin pie spice
Mix all ingredients together with a mixer or blender. Pour into a lightly greased casserole. Bake at 350 degrees for approximately 55 minutes.
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Interested in this topic and want some good reading? This post on hospitality sums up much of what I have been learning in these months of focused hospitality.
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