{"id":13309,"date":"2021-08-06T10:47:15","date_gmt":"2021-08-06T16:47:15","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/blog.mops.org\/?p=13309"},"modified":"2021-08-06T10:47:15","modified_gmt":"2021-08-06T16:47:15","slug":"let-in-the-light-and-the-pot-roast","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.themom.co\/fr\/let-in-the-light-and-the-pot-roast\/","title":{"rendered":"Let in the Light … and the Pot Roast"},"content":{"rendered":"

\u201cTell\u00a0her it\u00a0is\u00a0<\/span>not<\/span><\/i>\u00a0a good time\u00a0for a visit!\u201d my mom barked as she ran a hand through her\u00a0flat\u00a0hair and glanced disapprovingly at her reflection in the mirror behind me.\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span>\u201cAnd\u00a0don\u2019t you\u00a0<\/span>dare<\/span><\/i> let her see the house like this,\u201d she hissed before slinking away into the laundry room. She waited for me to dismiss our unannounced guest who was waiting in our foyer holding a steaming pot roast with mismatched oven mitts. <\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

My father\u00a0had recently undergone\u00a0back\u00a0surgery, and the recovery\u00a0proved\u00a0to be much harder than expected.\u00a0So\u00a0my\u00a0mom\u00a0called me\u00a0to come for a visit to help them get back on their feet.\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Word must have leaked to my mom\u2019s Bible study group that she was taking care of my father. Things weren\u2019t going smoothly, because her phone had been ringing off the hook with Christian concern all day. Seeing how my mom had reacted to the doorbell that evening made me realize that she liked her prayer requests printed in the weekly bulletin announcements with forethought and correct spelling. Not urgently spread word-of-mouth, which left her vulnerable to actual in-person check-ins and surprise dinners. <\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

I was perplexed,\u00a0because\u00a0my mom was\u00a0known for her beautiful dinner parties,\u00a0gracious hosting,\u00a0and service to others. She loved people\u00a0and loved having them in her home, so why wouldn\u2019t she let her friend come in and say hello? Why wouldn\u2019t she welcome her and this gesture of support with open arms\u00a0as she did her holiday dinner party guests? My mom had been on the verge of tears all day trying to set my dad\u2019s pain medicine and bandaging schedule.\u00a0Surely\u00a0she could use an encouraging chat with a dear friend\u00a0\u2014\u00a0a chance to unload some of her burden.\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

But I knew better than to push back against my mom\u2019s hissing voice. I thanked her friend profusely for the roast and promised it would go to good use. Even with my assuring thanks and whatever excuse I could manage for my mom\u2019s absence, the sting of unrequited kindness was evident as the friend nodded awkwardly, put her shoes back on, and let herself out through the door that I had opened for her only a moment before.\u00a0 <\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

I\u00a0thought about the occasions\u00a0when we had\u00a0visitors\u00a0growing up in that house,\u00a0and\u00a0there\u00a0was\u00a0always a lot of premeditation and preparation. The lighting was set just so, mood music tuned in at the perfect volume, glasses polished and curtains drawn open across perfectly clean windows to let the glow of our welcoming home dance out into the night street.\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

This week, the same curtains hung heavy and dark, like the worry and fear that hung over my mother. I\u00a0imagined\u00a0her welcoming\u00a0her friend\u00a0through her\u00a0undusted, messy home to\u00a0the single light at\u00a0her kitchen table, placing the pot roast\u00a0down and allowing the divine scent to fill the dim kitchen. I imagined my mom allowing her friend to see her under that bad lighting, in all her need and weakness. What a gift that would have been for both of them.\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

It made me think that maybe\u00a0being\u00a0hospitable\u00a0in our communities\u00a0is\u00a0more\u00a0about\u00a0being seen as you are\u00a0than\u00a0\u00a0about\u00a0being seen put together, because we can only have a purpose in one another\u2019s lives if we know there is a need for it.\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

After my mom recovered from the sleepless weeks and emotional strain of seeing her husband\u00a0through a\u00a0difficult surgery, she apologized to her friend and admitted that being caught off guard, even by a dear friend, made her feel vulnerable and exposed.\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

But that\u2019s just the thing. In true Christian community, there should be no fear of exposure. If we only feel like we can be living in the light when our lives are manageable and tidy, then we aren\u2019t reflecting the Gospel. The beauty of our faith isn\u2019t found in our ability to not need help. It\u2019s actually in the very essence of our need for it, because that\u2019s where Jesus meets us. Our community is there to normalize pain and difficulty and to slowly let in the light of grace wherever we have drawn the curtains and told others to stay off the furniture.<\/p>\n

It might not be realistic to live with an open door policy of our physical homes. I hope we can do the humble work needed to be able to live with the doors of our hearts open. May we be so filled with His love for us that we have the strength to make the pot roast when a friend is in need. The grace and humility to accept the pot roast when <\/span>we<\/span><\/i>\u00a0are the friend in need.<\/span><\/p>\n\n\n\n

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