My husband is a master in the kitchen. He loves the organized chaos that comes with timing dishes just right and swirling up a delicious feast by sheer determination to make the clock and the ingredients and the appliances work together.

He likes the thrill of it, to be sure, but he also enjoys serving others. He has this natural ability to whip up a delicious meal and serve all while appearing to do so with minimal effort.

Cooking the entire Thanksgiving meal? That is his actual delight.

A couple of years ago he stumbled into cooking his very first Thanksgiving feast when we realized the typical gathering just wasn’t happening. We invited his newly widowed mother to our humble table and discovered the absolute joy of a small Thanksgiving holiday.

Last year we repeated the scene but with new guests.

We were pretty sure we’d never go back.

But this year held something different. Back to the large family gathering. The potluck style Thanksgiving. To be honest, the invitation was unexpected. And we were a bit hesitant. Hadn’t we started a new tradition? A restful one. An introvert’s dream holiday, really.

Yet, we gathered up the energy and went to the gathering with our salad to feed thirty or so in hand.

And in the letting go of what we wanted to hold onto so tightly, the words I wrote in this space two years ago resurfaced in my mind:

“I want to embrace tradition while fully acknowledging its certain evolution. I want to look around the table and feel the gift of the presence of whoever is there… Jesus gave us pretty simple, though not easy, instructions. Love God and love others. If my traditions help me serve that purpose, I’m all in. But where I find the tradition ruling over me, I want to be quick to release its power over me.”
 

This year we squeezed in tight around the table. Spills happened. The children fidgeted and finally broke away from the table to play. And, as anticipated, there were family members I barely had the chance to say hello to for the busyness of it all.

Yet, my heart was thankful for the people. For the invitation. For family. 

Here’s to realizing that you don’t have to host to be hospitable. To sacrificing in order to show others they’re appreciated. To showing up so we can love as we’ve been loved. 

May we find the joy that comes from sacrificial love this holiday season, and may we give that love generously.


Photo by Paul Paul on Unsplash

Sarah / Posts / Blog

Sarah is a wife and mom who lives imperfectly for Jesus. She’s a communication professional by day, word girl by night, and always an appreciator of art. She’s on a mission to know and love God so she can love others like He commands. She calls it scattering gold. Sign up for monthly newsletters at www.scatteringgold.com.

  • Theresa Boedeker
    http://TheresaBoedeker.com

    Lovely. Yes sometimes we are giving more by not hosting. A different concept, but you brought out the validity.

    November 28th, 2017 23:54
    Reply
    01
  • Edna Davidsen
    https://ourchristianbook.com

    Dear Sarah

    Just read “When Not Hosting is the Most Generous Thing” and like to leave a comment before I leave.

    It sounds like you have a helpful and supporting husband.

    Cooking the entire Thanksgiving meal is a big agenda.

    Sometimes I can lead to positive surprises to implement new traditions, right?

    My favourite spot in this particular blog post was:

    “Here’s to realizing that you don’t have to host to be hospitable. To sacrificing to show others, they’re appreciated. To showing up so we can love as we’ve been loved.”

    Everything comes with a price.

    With love!
    Edna Davidsen

    November 30th, 2017 5:31
    Reply
    02

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