Witnessing God's Love in a Glass, Dimly

This visit with Barbara and Joaquin Garcia is such a beautiful true thing. Today, as we sat out on their deck in the early afternoon, with members of their family and a friend or two, I realized how seldom I am with family, extended family on holidays. And then I realized, there really isn't a whole lot of extended family to be with, other than Sam and Su. And we are 350 miles from each other. And we have been received, as always, as family here. Then there is the lovliness of the Garcia home. I am not talking about mere prettiness that can be purchased at Nebraska Furniture Mart. I am talking about the care with which they take in maintaining the beauty of what they have. A house that has plenty of places to sit and talk; a house that is cared for and to whcih hase been given much care in its ability to welcome guests and family. I feel under some conviction about this. Right now, we do not live in a space to which I feel comfortable inviting friends and family. Remember we have chosen to live in this place in order for me to be closer to Caleb's school and to co-parent the kids along with their dad, who does not live very far away. I could be living in the Liberty parsonage...but I have chosen otherwise, and I am glad I have. The place is working well for us as a family. However, the place is not exactly the Ritz. The outside front steps are cracked; the top step is two inches higher than the rest; the foyer has cracked and dirty paint; and at last look there was a huge entertainment center that must be owned by one of the upstairs neighbors taking up most of the foyer area anyway. When you do eventually make your way through the front door of our first floor apartment, you will find a fairly unkempt living room, complete with two litter pans (for when we are away a lot as we have been and will be this month); a basket and a large bag full of clothes to take down to Westport to the Retro thrift store; knick knacks on the mantel; nearly dead plants that hardly ever get watered; and lots and lots of dust. It will, however, after this weekend have a piano (more to that story perhaps in another entry.)The rest of the house (if you can forgive the kids' rooms which are always in various stages from "not straightened up" to "the health inspector better not show up or we are in trouble") is actually most of the time not exactly spotless, but somewhat presentable---that includes the kitchen, my bedroom (where I spend the majority of my time---TV, computer, books are in that room) and the hall bathroom. The other bathroom is accessed through Cana's room and I don't take a look at it very often. This all is a confession. Some of all of this results from my busyness; some from my natural tendency to not care too terribly much about how my housekeeping skills are judged by the world; some of it, a lot of it, is because we are in a rental property that I am not sure how much money I want to spend out of pocket in order to get it ready for entertaining, which, by the way, I really do like to do. I think it may be time to get my house in a bit more order.

I realize here at the Garcias how much I yearn for more grounding in my space and in how I live. I realize that I am loved radically and thoroughly by friends I have known for over twenty years who want only the best for me. I realize that Barbara Garcia may be the most gracious person I have ever met. I realize that she and I talk about matters of the church that we find it difficult to share with many others. I know that my children and I are always welcome not only in this lovely home, but are always welcome to call on them for whatever we need, especially in the hard times. I realize I want to be more a reflection of the love found in the open arms of God, not just in my office, but in my home, even in the old, beat-up apartment that will be my home at least for another year, probably at least for two more years. I want people to be able to see in me and my hospitality at least a dim image of God's love for them. I want people to feel welcomed in my home and know that because of how I have treated them, they will have some assurance that eventually, even as they see only dimly now the abundant love of God, then, they will see face to face.

Grateful, I am, for these people, and for others elsewhere, who love us, no matter what.