Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. My grandparents are visiting from South Dakota and we are having seven people over that we don't really know. I opened our home up to people without somewhere to go or someone with whom to celebrate, so we have seven people coming over. We have never met one of the people and the other six are a family we've met about three times. I put the invite out on our town's facebook page because I wanted people to know they didn't have to be alone. From the deal, we get seven new friends and a house full of festivities. Plus, one person offered to bring the turkey, which I consider a huge victory on my part. Vegetarian + cooking turkey for a feast = recipe for disaster. (pun totally intended.)
Here's the thing: I don't have good china. In fact, I may not even have enough silverware for the guests that will sit around my mismatched tables, one end flanked by a piano bench for two to ensure everyone at least has a spot to sit. Some people might have the great honor of using plastic silverware. We don't have two table cloths big enough and table cloths didn't make the budget. There will be no ornate centerpiece. What I'm saying is, if you want to eat with Martha Stewart, you might not like dining at my house. Party planning is not my forte and home decor is about as far from my forte as possible.
But, if you're looking for laughter and loud kids, card games and football, friendship and heart, this is your spot. Warts and all. Mismatched tables and zero fancy appetizers. Dog hair on the furniture and no trim on the walls. Petty arguments and plastic forks.
Let's put ourselves out there. We'll get our hearts stomped on now and again. We'll also gain relationships. We'll take risks. We'll see what we're made of. We'll realize, again and again, what is really important. And it's not table cloths. Or china. It's people. It's living love. It's showing up. Warts and all.