Before coming on the Race, I was pretty confidant in my knowledge of all things hospitality related. I mean, come on . . . I’m from Alabama! My mom and I each strive to be “the hostess with the mostest” when we have guests, and we live for entertaining inspiration from Southern Living or Pinterest.
My niece, Lily, with the products of our southern Christmas extravaganza
Who would have thought that the Lord would bring me to the Dominican Republic to give a completely different yet beautiful view of hospitality?
To paint the picture:
My team arrives at one of two villages for door-to-door ministry on most days. When we visit a home, there is clear excitement in response to our presence. No one runs to look in a mirror or hastily cleans the house. We are never told that someone is too busy for fellowship. We are never asked to come back later. We are simply welcomed with open arms, and it is amazing.
Some community members invite us inside of their homes to sit and visit. More commonly, a woman or man will motion for us to stay outside as chairs are gathered. It seems like every person we meet has an endless supply of Europlast chairs for entertaining. I never know where they come from; I do know that in a matter of minutes we are sitting in a comfortable circle of these colorful and stackable treasures.
As if on cue, we are offered coffee. Or juice. Or fruit. Or boiling milk straight from the cow to the pot (my personal favorite thus far).
We try to politely decline, but it rarely works. Before we know it, sugar cane is being chopped, soda is being bought or crops are being gathered and bagged.
We are literally showered with gifts, and I don’t think that I’ve ever felt so welcome.
From sugar cookies to sugar cane: Molly and Ty with the generous gift
Fast forward to lunchtime when we get to rest and enjoy a locally prepared meal. I’m talking about a true Dominican meal of rice, beans, vegetables and meat. In each village where we minister, a church member has volunteered to cook our lunches and provide a place to rest.
This is Milady. On Thursdays and Fridays, we minister in her village and eat lunch at her house. When it’s time to eat, we walk into her patio/tiki hut where a wonderful spread is already laid out and waiting for us. She greets us with hugs and kisses, and joy just radiates from her.
We eat the wonderful meal, and then she insists that we rest. Did I mention that she has a hammock? There is a really great hammock.
A prayer is said before we begin lunch, and the words spoken have never been more alive to me.
Lord, thank you for this food.
But really, thank you. I expected to pack pb&j’s for lunch each day. Instead, we are served authentic Dominican food and treated like royalty. You have completely provided in all aspects of ministry this month. Thank you for pastors who care about our well-being. Thank you for your daughter, Milady, who graciously prepares beautiful meals and opens her home.
Thank you.
Please bless the hands that prepared it.
Truly. Bless Milady. Her heart is pure, and her perspective is an eternal one. She sacrifices to serve. She sings to bring you glory. She gives hugs that transport me right into the arms of my mother.
Bless her. Bless her abundantly.
While I still do not think that there is anything quite like southern hospitality, I have been given a glorious gift this month. I have been shown love and generosity from complete strangers. Mealtime blessings have become more sincere and heartfelt, and I have a new list of goals.
· Be more open to fellowship and impromptu visits despite my personal schedule.
· Have an open door policy in my home (you know, if/when I ever live in a place for more than 30 days).
· Improve my cooking skills so that I can give the same gift to others that Milady has given me.
· Invest in Europlast chairs. They are taking over.
