I had a really, really great childhood. I was surrounded by a lot of immediate family, and a lot of friends that felt like family. Growing up in rural North Georgia we had to drive everywhere, but somehow everyone felt close. Maybe this is because I was a patient kid riding in the car. Maybe this is because there wasn’t ever any traffic unless you had to stop to wait for a train. But my favorite explanation for this is that there was just an expectation that we would show up regularly to see each other.

You see, my family is a clan of serial celebrators. Basically every weekend is up for grabs when it comes to gathering together to eat. I never thought about being invited when I was little. Invitation looked like gathering. Announced or unannounced.

One of my favorite people in my life, is my Grandma Marty. She lives in a beautiful big white house, with a front porch that was probably intentionally made so that goodbyes are prolonged and it’s impossible to leave. When you walk into the parlor, there is a grand piano and the house is decorated with beautiful pieces of furniture she has collected throughout her life.

Her big white house on Wolfe Street is one of the places that feels most like home to me. Growing up, I would spend the night there as often as I could. She had a pink room just for granddaughters with every thing a little girl could dream of. There used to be a pool in the back, and a creek where I once caught a snapping turtle the size of a silver dollar. It’s truly a magical place.

I think what makes it so magical, is that the moment you walk in her door, whether you’re expected or you just show up, you have all her attention. If she doesn’t stop what she’s doing (because she’s always doing something), she’ll invite you to join her. She doesn’t tell you to come back later because she’s got Christmas boxes everywhere. And I’m pretty sure her generosity in inviting you into her home, or her mess, or her to-do list, is what makes me feel safe there.

I hope everyone has a Grandma Marty in their lives. She has taught me so much about hosting, celebration, and invitation through the years. The biggest lesson I think I learned from her is that having a heart of invitation is a gift.

And when I say that, I don’t mean consistently inviting people to your house all the time, or going out with people all the time. Goodness knows I don’t have the extroverted energy for that. But what I do mean, is being a person that makes space for other people; being a person who welcomes others in to the mess that our lives can become.

Over the years, as I’ve become my own hostess, I have to fight the urge to think about to-do lists when I’m inviting people over. Most of the time when people are coming to our house, I stress out about the dark water stains I can’t get rid of, or I start thinking about how much I want a new vacuum cleaner, and I run to the store to stock up on flowers. My invitation becomes all about how I can present myself, rather than how I can simply welcome people to where I’m at. The same is true of how I interact with people outside of my house. Because I love to plan, it’s hard for me to not even lay expectations on what hanging out will look like. I’ll run through conversations in my head long before I’ve actually had them.

And when I look at my life, the people I admire the most are the people who are honest about who and where they are. I want to be that way. I want to imitate my Grandma Marty and open the door to my home and life to the people around me, and generously give them my time.

Now, I’m not saying we should all stop cleaning our bathrooms, give up flowers, and whatever other things you add to your to-do list when you’re hosting. What I’m saying is, maybe, just maybe, our hearts should be more ready to connect with people, than concerned with whether our homes and lives are instagram ready.

If we had to give a definition to what we’re talking about, this would be it:

Heart of Invitation: the state of mind to willingly be present, honest, and generous with others; to ask someone or to welcome them without pretense or expectation.

We want to be the kind of people who are making space for one another. We want to cultivate communities that are safe and authentic. We want to make more space for people, and care less about whether we’re put together or not. Because relationship and connection happens in real life, not in the ways we try to manicure and wrestle life to look like how we’ve dreamed it.

So I have a challenge for us this next week.

I want to challenge you to think about these questions:

• Am I inviting people to know me, or am I inviting them to know who I want to be? If I’m not inviting them to know me where I’m at, what is holding me back?
• Do my thoughts around hosting and relationship revolve around people, or myself?
• How can I be more generous with how I interact with people this week?

We’re going to be doing some soul searching, too. As well as some research on different practical methods to tackle the chores around your house regularly, for those of us who want to open our door to welcome people in, but still want to have clean bathrooms.

Thanks for following along this week, Party-Makers. We love sharing our hearts with you and challenging ourselves to pursue party lifestyles that aren’t about living our best lives, but living the lives we have with kindness, generosity, and authenticity.

Love, love, love,

Mary-Beth Johnson

Mary-Beth is a creative, food-obsessed, Georgia transplant living Chicago. She is proudly and fiercely Latina, and more specifically Chapina. In her day to day she is a food educator to students around Chicagoland aged 3 to 80+, both virtually and in-person. She is passionate about cultivating the truth that every person has an understanding of food that deserves being brought to the table, and that time in the kitchen can be sacred, passionate, and an act of love for self and others. Outside the kitchen you can find her at the intersections of infertility, chronic illness, and a deep love for the dignity of all humans. She hopes to create a space that is holistic about the role of food in the social, political, relational, and physiological dynamics of our world.