To Be Welcomed In

I remember very vividly the sweet neighbor lady who lived across the street from our family, when I was a child.  She loved to love on us.

I remember going over to her house, and she would let us in her backyard to pick tomatoes. To this day, yellow pear tomatoes (like some she grew), are my very favorite.

I remember going over, and just visiting. She would be sitting in her chair knitting. Her poodle would happily greet us, and her husband would be tinkering in the garage, making beautiful wood clocks.

We were never an inconvenience. Never rushed.

The same was true when I would visit my grandparents. They would greet us at the door with big smiles and big hugs. Then, they would sit in their rockers, and just visit with us in an unhurried manner.

There was comfort in that. Peace. Acceptance.

I left and I grew up with the feeling that I was welcome. At any time.

I felt wanted. And I felt loved.

I was thinking about that the other day. About how I treat those who grace my doorstep with unannounced visits. Do they feel welcomed? Do they feel comfortable? Do they feel like they can sit and just talk? Do they want to come back?

I want to be the kind of person who never hurries relationships. I want people to feel like they are welcomed in my home – and that they are listened to.

I miss that. I miss that sense of slowness that exists in our homes. It seems we are always hurrying from here to there. I know I’m in and out of my home all of the time.  But when I’m AT home, am I able to relax? Am I able to slow down?

There’s something inviting about knowing that someone is sitting on their front porch and there is an extra chair next to them. There is something adoring about knowing that someone always has homemade chocolate chip cookies ready for visitors. There is something in those things, that invites. That welcomes. That loves.

I want that something. I want to be remembered in some little girl’s fond memories.

How about you?