The Art of the Open Door: Hospitality When Your House Is a Mess

The doorbell rang at 5:47 on a Wednesday afternoon and I was standing in the living room with a laundry basket on my hip and a toddler attached to my leg and a half-eaten granola bar stuck to the couch cushion that I definitely hadn't noticed until that exact moment. I'd forgotten she was coming. I invited her myself three days ago and then the week happened and now she was on my front porch and my house looked like a tornado went through it with a grudge. I opened the door anyway and said come in and I'm sorry about the mess and she laughed and said my house looks exactly like this. She stepped over the toy truck and sat down on the couch and we talked for an hour and a half while the toddler climbed on her lap and the teenager came through looking for his cleats and the second-grader showed her the caterpillar she found in the backyard. Somewhere in the middle of that hour and a half I realized I'd been waiting for the house to be ready to have people over and the house was never going to be ready and that was the whole point.

I've been thinking about that afternoon all week. About how close I came to not opening the door. About how many times I haven't opened the door because the laundry was piled up or the floor needed sweeping. And I've been wondering what I've missed by keeping the door closed.

Be not forgetful to entertain strangers for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.
Hebrews 13:2

I used to read that verse and think about strangers. About people I didn't know. But lately I've been reading it as an invitation to open the door even when the house is a disaster and the dinner is frozen pizza and the only thing I have to offer is a chair and my full attention. Because maybe that's what hospitality actually is. A door that opens and a person who is seen.

LDS Hospitality Tips for Busy Moms

Here's what I've learned after twelve years of opening and not opening that door. The anxiety about the mess is almost always worse than the mess itself. I've never had a guest walk into my house and say anything other than your house looks lived in or don't worry about it. The fear lives in the five seconds before the door opens. After that it's just people being people together.

I started keeping a list in my head of what has actually mattered to the people who've walked through my door. A clean place to sit and something to drink and a conversation that didn't feel rushed. That's the list. Not the baseboards or the matching throw pillows or the casserole that took three hours. A chair and a glass of water and time.

The first time I invited our new neighbors over for dinner I spent the whole day cleaning and by the time they arrived I was exhausted. I sat there with a smile and a headache and I thought this isn't hospitality. This is performance. And I don't think the Lord asked us to perform for each other. I think He asked us to show up.

How to Open Your Home to Others With Young Children

The toddler years are the hardest for this and I know because I'm living them. The baby who needs to be held and the preschooler who needs to be entertained and the older kids who need homework help and dinner and a ride to practice. The idea of adding one more person to that equation feels impossible. But I've found that the people who come into my house during this season aren't looking for a quiet evening. They're looking for connection and connection happens in the middle of the chaos if you let it.

I've learned to lower my standards on purpose and it has changed everything. I keep a basket of toys in the living room and I don't apologize for them. I let the children be part of the welcome. The second-grader opens the door now when she hears the doorbell because she likes to be the first to say hello. The toddler brings her favorite book to every guest and climbs into their lap and I used to apologize for that too but now I just let her. Because the guest who is willing to read a board book to a toddler is the kind of guest who understands what hospitality is really about.

I wrote about this tension before in Hospitality as Ministry: Opening a Messy Home with Grace because I keep coming back to how to let people in when the house isn't ready. And the answer I keep landing on is that the house doesn't have to be ready. The heart does.

Balancing a Clean Home and a Welcoming Home

I'm not saying we should live in filth or stop trying to make our homes pleasant. But the balance has tipped too far for too many of us. We've convinced ourselves that the home has to be clean before it can be welcoming and that has kept a lot of doors closed.

I have a friend who keeps her house spotless and I worry about her sometimes. She vacuums every day and the dishes are always done. And she's the loneliest person I know because she's too exhausted to have anyone over. I look at her and I see myself on my worst days.

The home I want to be is the one where people show up without calling first. Where the door is unlocked and the coffee is hot and the conversation picks up where it left off. Where the mess is visible and nobody cares. I want my children to grow up in a home that feels like a refuge, not a showroom. And the only way to do that is to stop waiting for the house to be ready and start opening the door anyway.

Christian Hospitality in a Messy House

There's a story in the gospels I think about a lot. Mary and Martha. Martha is running around trying to get everything ready and Mary is sitting at the feet of Jesus and Martha is frustrated and Jesus says Martha, Martha, thou art careful and troubled about many things. But one thing is needful.

I used to read that and feel bad for Martha because I am the one worrying about the dishes and whether there's enough food. But I've started to read it differently. Jesus wasn't saying that Martha's work didn't matter. He was saying that her worry was getting in the way of her presence.

I've done that so many times and I'm sure I'll do it again. Spent the whole visit in the kitchen and missed the conversation in the living room. Been so worried about whether the guest is comfortable that I forgot to be comfortable myself. And I think the guest can feel the difference between a host who is present and a host who is performing.

Teaching Children Hospitality in the Home

The best thing about lowering the bar on hospitality is what it teaches the children. When they see me panic-cleaning before a guest arrives, they learn that the house matters more than the person. When they see me take a deep breath and open the door anyway, they learn that people matter more than perfection.

I've started letting the children help in small ways and it's messy and I love it. The teenager sets out the cups and the middle-schooler picks up the shoes from the entryway and the second-grader opens the door and the toddler brings her book. It isn't smooth and it isn't quiet and sometimes the guest ends up holding a baby while I pour the tea. But that's the point of the whole thing. They're learning that hospitality isn't about impressing people but about serving them.

I wrote about this in The Ministry of the Open Door: Hospitality Without Performance and I meant every word. The open door is a way of saying you belong here without saying anything at all. And the children who grow up in a home where the door is always open will grow up knowing how to open their own doors.

Frequently Asked Questions

How do I overcome the anxiety of inviting people over when my house is a mess?

I start by reminding myself that the anxiety is almost always worse than the actual visit. Most guests aren't looking at your baseboards. They're looking at your face and hoping you're glad to see them. I've started telling people ahead of time that the house is a disaster and that I'd love to have them anyway. It takes the pressure off both of us and it usually makes them laugh and say theirs is too.

Is it okay to let my children be part of the hosting process even if they are disruptive?

Yes and I think it's actually better that way. Children who are included in hospitality learn that it's a way of showing love, not a chore to be endured. The disruption is temporary. The lesson about service and welcome will last much longer than the mess they made.

What are some simple ways to be hospitable without spending hours preparing?

A clean place to sit and something to drink and your full attention. That's the whole list. I keep a box of tea in the cupboard and a bag of apples on the counter and I don't worry about the rest. The most valuable thing you can offer a guest is the feeling that you're glad they came and that you have time for them.

What if I don't have the energy to host anyone right now?

Then don't host. Hospitality is a gift, not an obligation. There are seasons when the door stays closed and that's okay. But I've found that even a small gesture can make a difference. A text to a friend or a plate of cookies left on a porch or a five-minute conversation at the mailbox. Hospitality doesn't have to happen in your living room to count.

I put the laundry basket down and I opened the door and I let her in. And after she left I looked around at the toy truck and the granola bar and the pile of shoes by the door and I thought this is what hospitality looks like in a real house. Not a clean house. A real one. And I think that's the kind of house the Lord is asking us to open.

with love, Melissa