Category: friendship

Posted on

How Can We Show Hospitality to Different Enneagram Types?

I met Lisa Russell, an Enneagram coach and spiritual counselor, for drinks a few weeks ago. Before meeting, I had thought we would discuss how each Enneagram type practices hospitality.

“Why don’t we talk about how we can show hospitality to each Enneagram type instead?” she suggested, taking a sip of her drink. “That seems less self-focused and more empathetic to me.”

Lisa described the Enneagram types as differing shades on a color palatte—there can be many shades of blue, green, and grey.

We often know about ourselves, but what happens when we become students of others?

How does this transform our communication, community, and hospitality to each Enneagram type? Here are some ideas for understanding and loving individuals as we show hospitality to each Enneagram type in our life (along with a collection of quotes from some of my social media friends.)

Type 1: The Reformer (rational, idealistic, perfectionistic, principled)

According to Lisa, this type is caught up in “holy goodness.” They believe God is good and they want to be right. They have a strong inner influence and the mantra “am I good enough?” often goes through their minds. Type Ones often hold themselves to a higher standard. To welcome a One to your home, have things structured and lined up for them.

M.W. : “Invite me into your fun. Help me play!”

Jacob Robinson: “Showing “hospitality” to a One is a tough ask because of the perfectionist standards. Thus, as a One, I don’t really need “hospitality’ but friendship.”

Annie Rim: “Having a really sweet/personal detail is the best. At dinner, a bottle of wine with a story behind it. As a house guest, a bar of soap or something thoughtful. Anytime someone has done that, I’ve felt especially seen and welcomed.”

Type 2: The Helper (caring, generous, interpersonal, possessive)

As a Type Two herself, Lisa had many thoughts about how to show hospitality to helpers. When you host, Twos are usually the first ones to offer to wash your lettuce or set the table. But sometimes what the Two needs is permission to receive instead of give. They sometimes need to be given “space and time to recharge and rejuvenate and have solitude.” They want to be able to serve out of overflow, not obligation. They want to feel loved for being, not doing.

Andi Cumbo-Floyd: “Hospitality to me is often making it known that I’m wanted just for me, not for the help I can bring.”

Abby Norman: “Either give me a task or tell me everything is taken care of.”

Tanya Marlow: “I like it when people give me quality time and we have a chat about emotions and Real Stuff. I also like it when people ask me for wisdom that will help them out, especially if they’re in crisis. “

Type 3: The Achiever (success-oriented, driven, image-conscious)

To show hospitality to a Three, Lisa advised being punctual and sticking to the set time. Threes get antsy with inefficiencies in gatherings. They appreciate being praised and affirmed for what they can bring to the table. Lisa mentioned a dinner she attended where the host prepared name cards in advance. On the back of each card, the host had written encouragement in the form of “I see this in you” for each specific person. Lisa thought the Type Three would feel especially loved by this gesture.

Sue Fulmore: “The times I have felt most seen and loved is when someone asks questions which help me get more in tune with my emotions. Those people that listen with their whole heart and seek to understand me – this is where I feel most welcome.”

Marci Yoseph: “I want you to sit with me and give me the space/time to sit and relax. If you are up doing stuff I feel obligated to be up and productive too. I need permission to just sit.”

Type 4: The Individualist (sensitive, expressive, dramatic, self-absorbed)

Type Fours “feel all the feels.” Lisa recommended allowing Fours the space and freedom to experience their feelings without shame. They often long for the space to express themselves and have perhaps experienced rejection for their sensitivity. To show hospitality to a Type Four might look like inviting them to share their unique gifts.

F.J. : “Take time to understand me. Be happy to see me. Pursue me. No small talk—only meaningful talk.”

A.M. : “Ask me questions and listen well. Put pretty flowers in my room.”

Type 5: The Investigator (cerebral, perceptive, innovative, isolated)

Lisa said the best way to show hospitality to a Five is to give them space. They tend to be more introverted and sometimes need to isolate and cave up. They appreciate knowing what to expect in advance. They often need to get to a meeting early and observe. But just because they linger on the margins doesn’t mean they don’t want to be invited.

Adam Verner (my husband): “Hand me a good book and tell me to go into another room by myself for three hours before joining the crowd.”

M.D. : “It’s not always easy to articulate deep feelings when you live in your head 99.99% of the time. Having someone who makes it calm, safe, and ok for you to unravel yourself is critical … I need room and empathy to unravel and rewind and figure it out. I need demonstrated empathy which often can mean a strong hug and quality time or asking me specifically about how I am regarding an issue you know I’m struggling with or working through. Presence. I simply need presence.”

Type 6: The Loyalist (committed, security-oriented, responsible, anxious)

Sixes often have a million plans in order to be prepared for the worst case scenario. Lisa mentioned they have the “Mary Poppins bag” of resources “just in case.” They need reassurance that things will be okay. To show hospitality to a Type Six, offer them security, stability, and consistency by following through with promises you make.

A.S. : “Be consistent with invites to hang out. Not with an agenda, but just to chill.”

A.K. : “Consider my children’s needs too. It makes me feel like all of the bases are covered so we can relax and talk.”

Juliana Gordon: “If there is a party, make sure there is plenty of seating so I can make the crowd smaller.”

Cara Strickland: “I love it when people let me know what to expect in advance/anticipate concerns I might have.”

Type 7: The Enthusiast (busy, fun-loving, spontaneous, scattered)

Lisa described this type as the “Joyful Epicurean.”  She said they love to go all out and indulge. They are always worried they’ll be deprived and often suffer from FOMO (Fear of Missing Out). What Type Sevens need from their hosts is permission to be spontaneous and fun-loving. They want friends to join them in their joyful spontaneity.

Jamie Bagley: “Let me know it’s okay to curl up on the sofa with a blanket or prop my feet up. Also, offering me tea and talking about all things quirky or deeply philosophical is the way to my worn out heart. Cookies help, too.”

Roxanne Engstrom: “I love when families from other cultures invite me to go places with them or do things that they are doing to celebrate religious or cultural moment. And my love language is also food, lots of ethnic food.”

Type 8: The Challenger (self-confident, confrontational, decisive, willful)

Type Eights are strong and powerful. They appreciate honesty and “have a nose to sniff out BS,” Lisa said. They don’t like empty flattery or appreciate people gushing over them. To show hospitality to a Type Eight might look like giving them an opportunity to lead and make decisions. They enjoy people bringing confrontation into the group and feel it’s live-giving.  

Courtney Skiera-Vaugn: “If someone were to just take charge and allow me not to have to lead – start the convo, have coffee ready, show up and serve without me asking or even agreeing to (a dear friend did this the other day knowing I was super busy, she showed up, took my kids, loaded my dishwasher and made me coffee IN MY HOME.)”

E.D.: “Invite me into a trusting environment. A few friends goes a lot further than a ton of people.”

Type 9: The Peacemaker (easygoing, agreeable, complacent, people-pleaser)

Lisa said Nines are similar to Sixes in that they need to know that they will be okay. They often camouflage themselves and blend in to please others, so they may need to be drawn out with questions like, “What do you really think?” They may need prodding to do something that engages their body like hiking or going for a walk.

Mallary Covington: “People can show hospitality to me by engaging in good conversations. I love asking good questions and listening, and also love it when people ask me good questions and listen to me in return. Something that makes me feel super disconnected from others is when people ask questions but don’t actually want a real answer. Also, keeping an environment low key and low stress really makes me feel welcome and comfortable.“

A.U.: “Make me know I’m really wanted there and that you are ok with me being there. I crave deep conversations, however I always worry that if I talk about something deeper than the weather that I’m rocking the peace.”

***

Although we are each unique, most of the responses I heard sang a similar tune. Most people feel loved when they are welcomed to be themselves. To do this, we put aside our phones and encourage our guests to relax. We arrange smaller groups, ask good questions, and listen for the answers. We affirm our belief that the person we are talking to right then is the most engaging and important person in the room.

About Lisa Russell:

Lisa is a spiritual counselor and Enneagram coach at Restoration Counseling in Fort Collins, Colorado. She teaches large group workshops and team and individual counseling on the Enneagram. Visit the Restoration Counseling website for more details or to sign up for an Enneagram coaching session.

More on the Enneagram:

Enneagram Institute Website (has a test and descriptions of the different types)

Typology Podcast

That Sounds Fun Podcast with Annie Downs series on the Enneagram

The Sacred Enneagram: Finding Your Unique Path to Spiritual Growth, by Christopther L. Heuertz

The Road Back to You: An Enneagram Journey to Self-Discovery, by Ian Morgan Cron and Suzanne Stabile

Invited: The Power of Hospitality in an Age of Loneliness releases August 13. Pre-order now and you will be eligible for some outstanding pre-order bonuses.

Sign up for my newsletter and I’ll send you Chapter 1 of Invited: The Power of Hospitality in an Age of Loneliness:

**This post contains Amazon affiliate links

Posted on

Reimagining Neighborhoods with Tim Soerens and Paul Sparks

Many of us are disconnected, lonely, and isolated even though we’re surrounded by neighbors, strangers, and living, breathing human beings all around us. My husband and I recently attended a meeting in Denver called “Reimagining Neighborhoods” where Tim Soerens and Paul Sparks, in partnership with the Navigators, discussed this issue. As the writers of the book The New Parish and founders of The Parish Collective , they challenged us to seek community right where we live.

The evening opened with a short film about neighboring well; then several individuals shared tales of intentionally pursuing relationships with people outside their immediate comfort zones. One man told of seeking out his “third place” (besides work and home) where he has developed relationships over time by frequenting a Thai restaurant.

Another woman mentioned that her dogs help her make connections, but also shared how their neighbors enjoy a fantasy football league, a fire pit-in-the-driveway tradition on Halloween, and use Facebook to promote neighborhood gatherings. Another described their neighborhood as “a place where I belong” and someone else said “cultivating a life in common” was of utmost value to them. The speakers shared about other friend’s involvement in farmers markets, coffeehouses, garage sales, community gardens, and giving away popsicles, dessert, or meals in the local park.

After these individuals shared about their experiences with opening their homes and intentionally seeking community among their neighbors, Tim Soerens began his talk with a quote from William Blake: “We become what we behold.” He described our small, faithful actions of simply showing up in our relationships with the people around us. He talked about healing democracy not by starting from the top, but from the bottom—in our homes, workplaces, neighborhoods and cities. Soerens said, “all the systems that shape us—we’re also called to shape them as well.”

Paul Sparks said we know the gospel has broken through and shalom has prevailed when the world can look at Christians and be struck by our love for one another. He quoted Manuel Castells, who talks about the “space of flows,” where people often miss one another in a life of busyness and movement. Sparks has visited many communities where people are experimenting with good news, and when he visits, he often looks for ways the community is solving conflicts and diving deeper into humility and grace for one another. He concluded by saying that this commitment to learning how we belong to one another isn’t rocket science, but it does take commitment, presence, and a miracle, because “turning to face one another takes divine grace.”

During our short discussion time at the end, one woman pointed out that this all seems so obvious, and yet in our culture of disconnection, individualism, and independence, we almost need to re-learn how to be humans with one another.

Finding connection right where we are is both the easiest and most difficult way to cultivate community. It requires intentionality, availability, and humility. And yet I believe there’s a movement of God to stop leaving “ministry” and movements to clergy and missionaries, and remind us we are already standing on holy ground—even if that ground is our rock-covered lawns (like in Colorado where I live), our third floor apartment buildings, or our ranch in the country. God wants us to notice the people right around us—look them in the eye, speak to them, and remember that we—and they–are not alone after all. When we begin to reimagine our neighborhoods, we begin to reimagine God’s vision for a connected kingdom.

Resources:

Parish Collective: You can learn more about Parish Collective here. Parish Collective identifies, connects, and resources followers of Jesus that desire to grow the fabric of love and care in, with, and for the neighborhood.

Book List: Their website also links to a fabulous list of books relating to developing community, relationships, and neighboring well.

The New Parish Book: Check out the book The New Parish: How Neighborhood Churches are Transforming Mission, Discipleship, and Community, by Paul Sparks, Tim Soerens, and Dwight J. Friesen (IVP). About the book: “Paul Sparks, Tim Soerens and Dwight J. Friesen have seen in cities, suburbs and small towns all over North America how powerful the gospel can be when it takes root in the context of a place, at the intersection of geography, demography, economy and culture.” (Amazon)

Prayer Walk Guide: The Navigators offered a brochure to do a prayer walk in your neighborhood. I couldn’t find that one online, but I did find this neighborhood prayer walk guide that also incorporates observation and accommodations for different seasons of the church calendar.

Sign up for the monthly-ish newsletter and I’ll send you a free list of hospitality resources!

My new book Invited: The Power of Hospitality in an Age of Loneliness is now available for pre-order! You can read about the book as well as some of the advance praise for the book by visiting this page. Sign up for my newsletter above to keep up-to-date on pre-order bonuses, launch team, book recommendations, and more! The LAUNCH TEAM is open until Thursday, June 13th. You can sign up here.

Photo by Clayton Cardinalli on Unsplash

*This post includes Amazon affiliate links

Posted on

What Happens in Neighborhoods {guest post}

By Afton Rorvik | Twitter: @AftonRorvik

When we moved into our new neighborhood, I did not know what to expect. Would we make friends and find connection?

I grew up on two acres of land in what was then rural Colorado, surrounded by German Shepherds, tomato plants, Russian Olive trees, gophers, and a variety of snakes and mice. Our nearest neighbors—mangy sheep and burly riding horses—didn’t bother us and we didn’t bother them. Of course, the barbed-wire fences helped.

When I moved to a Chicago suburb to attend school, I had no idea I would still be in this suburb decades later. Far away from rural Colorado, I now live next to people, not sheep and horses.

My husband and I and our two kids had only lived in our new house in a Chicago suburb for a few days when several women knocked on our door and invited me to go to a movie with them. I declined, explaining how overwhelmed I felt with the details of moving. My neighbors persisted. A block party. An open house. Coffee at the little shop down the hill.

So very different than living next to sheep and horses.

Nancy lived at the heart of our suburban neighborhood although not exactly at the geographic center. She came early to every neighborhood event and left late. Her mac and cheese had long ago become standard fare at all potlucks. She knew everyone, and everyone knew her. She loved to walk through our streets, usually with her niece’s Jack Russell Terrier in tow. Walking, actually, does not describe what Nancy did. Her meanderings more resembled a halting waltz. She glided slowly, gracefully down the sidewalk until she spotted a neighbor. Then she stopped. Immediately.

The seasons came and went. I started to accumulate phone numbers and began to learn names. I had several conversations with Nancy and other neighbors. Our daughter memorized the names of all the dogs.

Then one winter, in the early hours of dawn, the piercing sound of an ambulance shook our neighborhood. As neighbors woke up that morning, news spread quickly: Nancy, only 49, had had a heart attack. The paramedics had not been able to spare her life.

I did not anticipate my reaction to this news: I sobbed.

I did not know Nancy well, and yet I did. I had come to depend on her mac and cheese, her face-splitting grin, and her probing questions. I loved her stories of talking about Jesus with people in line at the grocery store or Jehovah’s Witnesses who knocked at her door.

And now?

Bev had already planned her annual Christmas open house for the day of Nancy’s funeral. We all discussed canceling it, but then someone voiced our collective thoughts, “No. We need to be together. Nancy would want it that way.”

And so we celebrated Nancy’s life and faith at her funeral. The church oozed with friends and families. We carpooled there and back. We gravitated to Bev’s house where we all listened for Nancy’s heart-felt laugh and distinctive voice. We talked of her mac and cheese as if it had been some rare delicacy. We remembered. We hurt. Together.

I did not know that this happened in neighborhoods.

How thankful I am to live near people—these people—who have taught me the great joy of living connected, living in community.

About Afton:

Afton Rorvik savors words, flavored coffee, time outside, and living connected. Although an introvert, she has come to realize that what really matters in life is people and faith in Jesus, which gives her strength and courage to live connected. She is the author of Storm Sisters: Friends for All Seasons. Follow her at her website, www.aftonrorvik.com, Facebook and Twitter.

 

***

This month on Scraping Raisins we are talking about Friendship and Community. Be sure and subscribe to my newsletter or follow on social media so you don’t miss a post!

The theme for October is Practical and Impractical Hospitality, so visit the submissions guidelines if you’re interested in guest posting! New and seasoned writers welcome;-)

Sign up for the (occasional) Mid-month Digest and the (loosely) “end of the month” Secret Newsletter for Scraping Raisins Here:

*This post contains Amazon affiliate links.

Photo by Daria Nepriakhina on Unsplash

Posted on

On Self-Care, Friendship, and Chocolate Cheesecake {guest post}

By April Yamasaki | Twitter: @SacredPauses

One of my friends lives in another town about an hour’s drive away, and at least once a year, she makes the trek out on a Sunday morning to hear me preach. After worship, we usually have a long, leisurely lunch followed by a not-so-leisurely walk in a nearby park so we can burn off some calories before we settle down somewhere else for dessert.

The last time she came for a visit, we talked about her recent trip to Tanzania and my stay-cation, her volunteer work and my church ministry, how we’re both managing to find time for family, friends, and everything else even when the days seem to go by so fast.

I savor our friendship and visits together. I want to hear about her latest project researching her family’s genealogy and about the summer coffee party she planned with a few friends. I want to groan over the bad news of illness in her family and celebrate the successes. That’s what friends are for, to share our lives together and to care for one another

Spending time with friends can also be an important part of self-care.

I once thought of self-care as caring only for myself. Like taking an afternoon nap, or buying myself a new scarf, or snuggling on the sofa to read a novel. And certainly when life gets too busy and filled with multiple people and multiple expectations, withdrawing for some much needed alone time can be a precious form of self-care.

But more and more I’m discovering that definition of self-care is overly narrow. As human beings, we are created for relationship—relationship with God and relationship with one another. So to be fully alive and fully human, we need relationships–and I believe that extends to a healthy understanding of self-care too.

Instead of narrowly defining self-care as caring only for myself, I now realize that sometimes self-care takes place in relationship with other people. Friendship can be a two-way street, where spending time with a friend and caring for her can also contribute powerfully to my own self-care.

Friendship can be a two-way street, where spending time with a friend and caring for her can also contribute powerfully to my own self-care. @SacredPauses

Click To Tweet

My friend and I ended our last visit by splitting a piece of chocolate cheesecake and two dollops of whipping cream, with coffee for her and tea for me. I can’t remember the last time I had such a decadent dessert, so it was a real treat. “Ah, self-care,” I thought to myself.  But it wasn’t only the cheesecake. That afternoon, our conversation was just as much a part of my self-care.

So here’s to the deep satisfaction of long-time friendships and the joy of making new ones, to family members that we care for and who care for us, to the constant care of God who is always with us and never fails—all these relationships and more can help to broaden us and broaden our understanding of self-care.

As L.R. Knost writes, “Taking care of yourself doesn’t mean me first, it means me too.” So I was glad to share that afternoon conversation and chocolate cheesecake, to care for my friend and care for myself at the same time.

About April:

April Yamasaki serves as the lead pastor of a mid-size, multi-staff congregation in Abbotsford, British Columbia, Canada. She writes blogs and books, including the newly released Four Gifts: Seeking Self-Care for Heart, Soul, Mind, and Strength (Herald Press, 2018). Find out more from her websites: Writing and Other Acts of Faith (aprilyamasaki.com) and When You Work for the Church: the good, the bad, and the ugly, and how we can all do better (WhenYouWorkfortheChurch.com). Connect with her on Facebook and Twitter.

***

Check out April’s New Book!

Four Gifts: Seeking Self-care for Heart, Soul, Mind, and Strength. From Amazon:

“Is self-care different from being selfish or self-indulgent? Is it the same as caring for your soul? And what does self-care look like in light of following Jesus, who called his followers to deny themselves?

In Four Gifts, pastor and author April Yamasaki addresses these and other questions about self-care. Drawing on the ancient scriptural command to love God with our heart, soul, mind, and strength, Yamasaki helps readers think about the spiritual dimensions of attending to your own needs, setting priorities, and finding true rest in a fast-paced world. She weaves together personal stories, biblical and theological insights, questions for reflection, and practical ideas for self-care. Four Gifts helps readers sustain their spirits and balance competing demands. Feeling overwhelmed by the pace and stress of daily life? Find respite from superficial definitions of self-care and move toward deeper engagement with God.”

***

This month on Scraping Raisins we are talking about Friendship and Community. Be sure and subscribe to my newsletter or follow on social media so you don’t miss a post!

The theme for October is Practical and Impractical Hospitality, so visit the submissions guidelines if you’re interested in guest posting! New and seasoned writers welcome;-)

Sign up for the (occasional) Mid-month Digest and the (loosely) “end of the month” Secret Newsletter for Scraping Raisins Here:

*This post contains Amazon affiliate links.

Posted on

Planning for Spontaneous Hospitality

 

By Mrs. Serviette | Instagram: @theserviette

We’ve all heard stories of the spontaneous hospitality practiced many in non-Western countries. Some of us have experienced it when travelling far from home and being welcomed into strangers’ homes. But when those warm people who’ve always opened their doors spontaneously come to the West, they too often don’t return home with stories of spontaneous hospitality. In fact, in our Western world they often experience a “hospitality culture shock” of sorts.

This difference in our hospitality styles can be attributed to our cultural differences — relationship-orientation verses task-orientation. I live in Germany, a very task-oriented nation…which is filling with immigrants from relationship-oriented nations. A North African student recently talked about his experiences in Germany with me. “Most of my friends here are also North African. We can drop in on each other at almost any time. But Germans, no. The Germans are busy and protective of their time.”

“Busy.” “Protective of their time.” Would our neighbours, coworkers and friends describe us in this way?

When I hear comments like these, I wonder: how can we mix more spontaneity into our well-planned Western lives? We appreciate it when someone offers it to us, but it’s hard to make time for it in our own busy lives. As I look at our African, Middle Eastern, or Asian friends here in Germany, I realize: spontaneity is their language of friendship. A true friend will be available to you when you need them. A true friend will let you drop in on or call without making an appointment ahead of time. How can we be true friends to our warm, relationally-oriented friends?

My husband and I are learning a few ways that we can plan to be spontaneous — is that an oxymoron? In our experience…

Spontaneity in cross-cultural hospitality means keeping our evenings relatively unscheduled. We don’t lock ourselves into a Monday night jogging group — we can jog on our own if Monday night is free. We have only one night and one morning a week that are virtually always booked, and a few days a month where we usually attend certain events. But otherwise, we keep a lot of our weeknights relatively open, which allows us to be free on short notice…because nothing says “I’m too busy” like having to book a simple dinner date six weeks ahead of time! In the past year, keeping our evenings relatively open has allowed us to be more spontaneous — to invite a friend who passed an important German exam out for dinner on the same night to celebrate, or to quickly find time for coffee with a friend going through a divorce.

Spontaneity in cross-cultural hospitality means limiting certain friendships. We could hang out with our Christian friends or church groups almost every night of the week if we wanted to. But in order to build deep relationships with people of other religions and cultures, we have had to decide carefully how many church commitments or relationships to take on. We sometimes have to also limit the number of new relationships with cross-cultural friends we pursue, so we can be true, spontaneously-available friends to the foreign friends we already have. When we can, we try to plan events where friends of a variety of backgrounds can spend time with us together.

Spontaneity in cross-cultural hospitality often means setting counter-cultural priorities. One of the main reasons that spontaneous hospitality doesn’t happen much in the West is because we are so busy with our “paid work” that we don’t have time for “unpaid work” like hospitality. It is good to regularly evaluate our standard of living and priorities, or to be willing to be counter-cultural in some of our decisions in regard to money, time and work. I am a freelancer, and sometimes people ask me why I don’t get a regular 9 to 5 job. “Wouldn’t you get extra benefits by working for an established company?” they ask. It’s hard to explain to them all the benefits we gain because my work-from-home schedule keeps me much more flexible.

You can foster spontaneity in hospitality by learning to:

1. hold your plans and schedule loosely,
2. keep a relatively organized, clean-ish home,
3. let people see your home even when it’s not organized and clean-ish,
4. always have something simple on hand that you can feed to drop-in guests,
5. offer guests simple fare or accommodations and not have to put on a show,
6. say “no” to some good things so you can say “yes” to the best things…
7. and much, much more….

Hospitality Tips. #hospitality #tips #crossculturalhospitality

The North African student I mentioned at the beginning of this post mentioned that one German student and his family have given him the gift he cherishes most: their time. That German student keeps in contact with him virtually daily. He invited the North African student to spend time with his family in their home. The North African student, who is a self-described “moderate Muslim” mused, “I don’t know if it’s because of their Christian faith that this German guy and his family take time for me. But they are the only Germans who have been so friendly and generous with their time.”

“Friendly.” “Generous with their time.” Could our foreign neighbours, coworkers and friends describe us in this way? Or are we busy running from task to task? Do they make the connection between our openness and generosity and our faith? Know that spontaneity doesn’t have to be as spontaneous as it looks. You can intentionally plan cross-cultural hospitality into your life by making some counter-cultural decisions. Let’s be known for our love — not our schedules.

Let’s be known for our love — not our schedules. ~Mrs. Serviette

Click To Tweet

About Mrs. Serviette:

Mrs. Serviette and her husband, Mr. Serviette, are North Americans living in Germany. They enjoy opening their home to people of all different cultures, backgrounds and religions. Their adventures in hospitality inspired Mrs. Serviette to to start her blog, The Serviette, which encourages people to share their tables in a way that bridges cultural and religious gaps, shows creativity, and serves others. Follow her at her website, Instagram, or Facebook.

 

***

The theme for August is “Homelessness, Refugees & the Stranger,” so send me a post for that, too, if you have a good idea! Email me at scrapingraisins @ gmail (dot) com if you are interested in guest posting. You can find submission guidelines here. Guest posts should be between 500 and 900 words. Be sure to include a headshot and bio.

And if you’re not a writer, be sure to follow me on social media (links in upper right) to keep up with the latest blog post or sign up for my newsletter below for links to thought-provoking articles, a digest of blog posts, and a few things I’m into these days! xo

Sign up for the (occasional) Mid-month Digest and the (loosely) “end of the month” Secret Newsletter for Scraping Raisins Here:

*Photo by Kira auf der Heide on Unsplash.

Posted on

Egyptian Hospitality: Neighbors, Niqabs, and Too Much Food {guest post}

By Alicia Joy White | Instagram

“Hi! We’re your new neighbors!”

“I know.”

Awkward silence.

We leave the elevator and turn in opposite directions down the hallway.

That was our first meeting with our neighbor, Hakim, from across the hall. It taught us two things about him–he spoke English and he wasn’t interested in us.

Several weeks later, we found ourselves knocking at his door. My introverted husband and my introverted self were on a mission to meet our neighbors despite speaking almost no Arabic. I would like that to sound brave, but in reality we were hiding being cookies and our cute one-year-old.

Knees knocking, we prayed no one would answer. After a few seconds, we looked at each other, shrugging. At least we had tried to be neighborly. But as we turned to flee, a large figure clad entirely in black ripped opened the door and dragged us inside by the arms.

We soon learned that this joy-filled woman was Hakim’s wife, Fatima, and now she was gesturing for us to sit in their comfortable, well-worn living room chairs. She shyly attempted some English with us, discovered we weren’t going to get very far, and left. To our dismay, she emerged with Hakim in pajamas, rubbing his eyes grumpily. We quickly attempted an exit, but Fatima began serving tea, forcing Hakim to interpret the conversation.

Fatima stared curiously out at us from behind her niqab (a garment of clothing that covers the face with only the eyes are visible); I could feel her smiling under the black veil. Hakim, however, had been rudely awakened to translate for the naive foreigners who he had not been interested in meeting. Not exactly what we had been expecting, but you never know what you’ll get when you start knocking on doors.

This awkward encounter was the start of a beautiful friendship with our neighbors. We soon learned to love Hakim’s gruff outward demeanor that belied a warm heart full of adoration for our son. And Fatima would come to define hospitality for us in the way she dumped love and Egyptian food on us. We learned that Fatima had only recently chosen to wear the niqab and how Hakim disagreed with her decision. We learned about Fatima’s fear of foreigners (us, initially), and of many websites teaching Islamic apologetics. They rescued us from locking ourselves out precisely three times, once while I was clad in an above-the-knees nightgown, seven months pregnant (with twins). Funny now; incredibly not funny then.

Yet in the year and a half that we lived next to them, they never came to our home for a meal or sat in our living room and had tea with us. The majority of our memories were in their home, even though I tried to host them. Fatima came to our home many times, sometimes to exchange language practice, many more times to bring us food, but she never stayed and talked for hours as I did in her home. She never seemed comfortable in our home.

Maybe it was her discomfort outside of her own home, but I know that I had something to do with it. There were times she knocked on the door with plates overflowing with food that I just stood in the doorway, thanked her, and darted back inside before my son was awakened by the commotion. Other times I didn’t answer because I wanted to nap or just wanted to be alone. I think she knew I was in there though. There aren’t many secrets when you live across the hall from an Egyptian woman who stays at home all day. She knows everything.

As I reflected on her reluctance to accept an invitation to our home I learned something about myself–I prefer hospitality on my own terms. I like hosting because I control the scene. I like the idea of being dropped in on, but I don’t want it to interrupt my anticipated schedule (as loose of a term as that is these days). Rather than being hospitable at any time, I am building my life around “me time.”

God is teaching me about another level of hospitality that affects all of my relationships.

God is teaching me about another level of hospitality that affects all of my relationships.

Click To Tweet
 I’m learning that hospitality doesn’t only consist of inviting people over to your home, but at its core consists of intentional presence with whoever you’re with, whenever you happen to be with them. Vietnamese peace activist Thich Nhat Hanh says, “The most precious gift we can offer others is our presence.”

How often am I really present?

Whether it’s my three-year-old who woke up from his nap early, a woman selling tissues on the street when I’m in a hurry, or a friend dropping by unannounced, these are moments I sometimes wish away, missing an opportunity to be present with someone special. In chasing moments of alone time, I wish away the people and relationships surrounding those moments.

So I’m asking myself a new question: How is God calling me to open my door to anyone who knocks like Fatima opened hers to me?

About Alicia:

A Coloradan by birth, Alicia currently lives in Cairo, Egypt with her husband, and three boys three and under. Always a nurse at heart, her impossible 24/7 job these days is keeping her boys alive while trying to learn Arabic, engage with her community, and listen to the stories of the refugees, Egyptians, and expats she is surrounded with. Follow her on Instagram @aliciaw8290.

***

 

Our theme this month is “Hospitality Around the World.” Email me at scrapingraisins @ gmail (dot) com if you are interested in guest posting. Guest posts should be between 500 and 900 words. Be sure to include a headshot and bio. The theme for August is “Homelessness, Refugees & the Stranger,” so send me a post for that, too, if you have a good idea!

And if you’re not a writer, be sure to follow me on social media (links in upper right) to keep up with the latest blog post or sign up for my newsletter below for links to thought-provoking articles, a digest of blog posts, and a few things I’m into these days! xo

Sign up for the (occasional) Mid-month Digest and the (loosely) “end of the month” Secret Newsletter for Scraping Raisins Here:

Posted on

A Shared Burden in Germany {guest post}

By Elizabeth Hinnant  | Twitter: @LizHinnant

I’ve always prided myself on being able to take care of things on my own – not so much because I value self-sufficiency, but mostly because I don’t like being a burden on others. That’s just good sense, right? Ironically, it took a house full of extremely sensible German young people to show me that needing help doesn’t make me a burden, and even when it does, burdens are always better when they are shared.

After graduating from college in England, I moved to Germany to start a PhD and work in a Chemistry lab. The country was beautiful, but my experience wasn’t great. My boss was emotionally abusive, and it turned out that I liked learning about Chemistry more than actually doing it. A year into my project, as I was slowly figuring all this out, I left for a conference and returned to my basement apartment to find almost every surface covered in fuzzy, white mold. The heavy wooden furniture. The cork backs of pictures on the walls. My boots. My faux-leather jacket. Most of my clothes and coats. Completely covered in mold.

It turns out that without air conditioning, it’s important to leave the windows open for a few minutes every night in the summer in order to keep the humidity levels down. I had noticed the apartment was a bit muggy and even bought a dehumidifier, but nobody had clued me in to this crucial bit of German housekeeping. I spent the next two weeks staying with friends and spending an hour or two each night scrubbing every inch of the apartment and dry cleaning most of my belongings. I even had friends from my church come help me finish cleaning off everything that had been affected.

Apparently, it wasn’t enough. Eventually, as I prepared to move back in, the elderly owners of the house told me in broken English that my boxes of belongings in the basement hall were making it difficult for them to sleep because of the mess. They got increasingly agitated until I started calling every number in my phone to find someone who could translate.

One of the first people I managed to get in contact with was an acquaintance from church, a girl I had hung out with a few times but didn’t know super well. Once she heard what was happening, she didn’t hesitate. She told me to hang on and that she would be right over.

Twenty minutes later, she listened patiently as the couple – with whom I thought I had established a good relationship – listed all of my faults in humiliating detail. My German wasn’t great, but I caught the gist of the conversation: I didn’t sit out in the garden enough. I let my recycling stack up. They could see through the windows that I sometimes left clothes on the floor. I was a terrible housekeeper. They had been renting out that room for decades and never had a problem until I moved in. As much as I’d tried to be a good tenant, I had become my worst fear: a burden. My heart fell into my shoes.

As soon as they were out of earshot, my friend asked if I understood what they had said. I nodded. She looked me in the eye and said, “You’re coming to stay with me. Tonight. You don’t need to stay in a place like this.” I didn’t know what to say, but she insisted. I’m pretty sure I started to cry. She said she was certain that if they knew I could understand, they wouldn’t have been so harsh, but she was going to help me get out anyway. She helped me gather my things, and we biked across town to her apartment.

I ended up staying with her and her roommates for a month as I searched for another place to live. We had amazing group breakfasts, and she made me watch Friends with her when she found out I’d never seen it. At one point, she told me she was going out of town for a week, and to make myself at home while she was gone. I later learned she had exams and went to stay with her parents in the next town so that we would both have the space we needed.

Towards the end of the month, I realized I needed to leave the lab I was working in, and I eventually decided to move back to the U.S. altogether. Another friend later told me that the mold problem was likely due to the super-thick windows that my landlords had installed shortly before I moved in, and even if it was my fault, I was clearly doing everything I could to make things right, even if I wasn’t living up to their standards for domestic bliss (which were apparently exceptionally high in that area of Germany).

That month is still something of a blur in my memory, but I’ve never forgotten my friend’s hospitality and generosity. She taught me that even when you have nothing left to give, true friends value you for who you are. Where other people treated me poorly and found all kinds of ways justify their actions despite my best efforts, she treated me well – even to the point of inconvenience – for no reason at all. She saw the situation I was in and gladly picked up the burden so that it could be shared. She didn’t want me to struggle alone in a place where I didn’t know the language and didn’t have family nearby to assist when things got tough. She made space for me just because I needed it, and because she had resources I did not.

She made space for me just because I needed it, and because she had resources I did not. @LizHinnant

Click To Tweet

I’ve spent the last seven years trying to learn to see myself (and, by extension, others) the way she saw me – as a friend in a tough situation, not as a problem to be solved or criticized or ignored. I don’t know that I’ve quite succeeded, but if I ever do, it will be because of the unparalleled hospitality I experienced.

About Elizabeth:

Elizabeth Hinnant lives in Atlanta with her husband Neal and a corgi/shepherd diva pup named Heidi. She (Elizabeth, not the dog) writes about science, tech and chronic illness and sometimes tweets @LizHinnant.

 

***

Our theme this month is “Hospitality Around the World.” Email me at scrapingraisins @ gmail (dot) com if you are interested in guest posting. Guest posts should be between 500 and 900 words. Be sure to include a headshot and bio. The theme for August is “Homelessness, Refugees & the Stranger,” so send me a post for that, too, if you have a good idea!

And if you’re not a writer, be sure to follow me on social media (links in upper right) to keep up with the latest blog post or sign up for my newsletter below for links to thought-provoking articles, a digest of blog posts, and a few things I’m into these days! xo

Sign up for the (occasional) Mid-month Digest and the (loosely) “end of the month” Secret Newsletter for Scraping Raisins Here:

Posted on

South Africa, Funerals, and My Vegetable Peeler {guest post}

By Debbie Horrocks | Instagram: @hopebreathes

My vegetable peeler was the first thing on my list of ‘Stuff to Take to South Africa’. It was a wedding gift and has always worked miracles on a butternut squash. I had no idea what life in the township of Soshanguve would look like, but I knew I would cook. Perhaps just for my family, but hopefully for others too, I dreamed of nourishing friendships in our new community. In the last minute rush the peeler was left in the kitchen drawer, but it quickly made its way from Scotland by post.

The peeler did indeed tackle many a pumpkin and potato during my three years in South Africa. My fears of people not enjoying my culinary offerings gradually disappeared with each clean plate, and each tupperware filled with leftovers. But I never expected that ‘peeling’ would also be a way to love and support my neighbours.

Funeral practices can be enlightening when learning a new culture. In Soshanguve funerals were almost always on a Saturday morning and there was an expectation that the neighbourhood would gather and be well fed. Following a death in the community, neighbouring families would contribute financially towards the food. There was an almost wordless understanding that local women would gather at the home of the bereaved on Friday night to prepare the food. As the women peeled vast quantities of carrots and squash, and sliced buckets of cabbages, onions and beetroot, we showed solidarity with the bereaved.

The first time I went ‘to peel’, a summer storm hit and the rain dropped through the joints in the temporary shelter. I didn’t know to take my own utensils, so I was left peeling squash (and occasionally my finger) with a dull knife and no chopping board. I panicked about what to chat about with all these ladies, who eventually suggested I do a slightly less dangerous task. Through the awkwardness, I found comfort in the simple, practical task in front of me.

The next time, I possibly offended the family by leaving before the end when we would drink rooibos tea and eat simple cakes together. I soon learned to take my own peeler, which was much admired for its ‘strength’. I also learned that it didn’t matter that I wasn’t fluent in the language, or that I had no idea what to talk about. I was welcomed and accepted, standing shoulder to shoulder over colossal metal bowls. It simply mattered that we were there, utensils in hand, showing the family that we hadn’t forgotten, that we were together.

We went to a lot of funerals in our neighbourhood, it seemed there was too much sickness, tragedy and death in that place. Towards the end of my time in Sosh a dear friend passed away. She had been a colleague, cultural guide, teacher and mother to me, and she always looked out for me on those Friday evenings. The night before Mama Jane’s funeral I went to her home to help prepare the funeral food. The absence of her reassuring smile across the tables of vegetables made this funeral more personal. I realised that I needed this gathering too.

Yes, it was important to comfort and support the family, but this custom also created a community to share my grief with. Standing alongside those women and sharing our task meant that we were each less alone.

Back in my home culture and in my mother tongue, I often still don’t know what to say. But I have learned the importance of conveying solidarity; I can reach for my peeler and prepare a dish to show that I see and care and grieve too.

Peeling. Chopping. Nourishing. Grieving. Being. Together.

About Debbie:

Debbie loves, learns and lives in the East End of Glasgow, Scotland with her husband and two wee boys. People, food and stories are her favourites, preferably combined. She writes at Hope Breathes about nurturing our souls and engaging with our communities. Follow her on Instagram!

 

***

Our next theme this month is “Hospitality Around the World.” Email me at scrapingraisins @ gmail (dot) com if you are interested in guest posting. Guest posts should be between 500 and 900 words. Be sure to include a headshot and bio. And if you’re not a writer, be sure to follow me on social media (links in upper right) to keep up with the latest blog post or sign up for my newsletter below for links to thought-provoking articles, a digest of blog posts, and a few things I’m into these days! xo

Sign up for the (occasional) Mid-month Digest and the (loosely) “end of the month” Secret Newsletter for Scraping Raisins Here:

Posted on

Simplify Friendship {Guest Post}

By Anna Moseley Gissing | Twitter: @amgissing

Exactly one year ago, I hopped in my Smart car and drove across Pennsylvania, Ohio, and Indiana, to a basement apartment in Wheaton, Illinois, where I unloaded a few boxes and settled in to a new home. The next day I drove to my new job as an editor for a Christian publisher. I left my husband and two kids in Pennsylvania until our house sold and my husband found work.

A couple of months later, my family joined me in Illinois, and my husband started work the next week. We frantically searched for quality sitters and fun summer camps in a place where we knew no one and nothing.

But finding a permanent home in Illinois wasn’t easy. We moved into another temporary place but left our furniture in storage and lived out of boxes for the rest of the summer.

At last, we found a new home at the beginning of August, and we started the long process of unpacking and settling in. But we were also registering the kids for school and sorting out drivers’ licenses and doctors’ visits, now that we had a permanent address.

When our kids started school just a couple of weeks later, we thought we might make some progress toward feeling “settled.” But then I changed editorial positions within my department. The chaos and complexity of life in transition continued.

I was discouraged when I missed my goal of being unpacked by the time we’d been in our home one hundred days. Based on past experience, I knew that I should keep up the momentum. If I didn’t keep pressing forward, treating my weekend days like unpacking boot camp, I might wake up ten years from now to see those same boxes still stacked in my laundry room.

I needed to be single-minded: Until the one-year anniversary of our move in August, I would focus on working hard at my new job, helping my kids adjust to a new school, and unpacking. We could meet people and explore our new community later.

It felt like simplicity. Instead of spreading myself too thin, committing to new activities and social events, I’d do fewer things and do them well.

And then an Instagram post made me reconsider my simple routine.

Some good friends had reunited for a retreat in North Carolina. Their smiling faces caught me off guard. The retreat happens every year in early February, but I forgot. I had decided that friends were on the back burner until I was fully unpacked and settled at work.

Though there was a simplicity to my plan, it was oversimplified.

I had put off friendship indefinitely. I had isolated myself from friends far away, waiting for more time to invest. I hadn’t met new friends either—I couldn’t find the time.

In my quest for simplicity, I cut out vital parts of life. It was time to reconsider.

During Lent, I committed to connect with a friend once a week. I started with a bang—coffee out with a local friend. The next week I took a long lunch break to get to know a new colleague. Later our family connected with another family to cheer for our favorite sports teams as they battled one another.

But it was going to be tough to do something that intentional each week.

So I started experimenting. Instead of setting up phone dates with my far-away friends (which took weeks to schedule and inevitably fell on days that were super stressful so that by the time the appointment arrived, I wanted to crawl in a hole), I took chances and called when I had only ten minutes to chat. Out of the blue, at odd times.

Sometimes I got voicemail. But sometimes I didn’t. These brief calls warmed my heart and changed my days. I didn’t hear about everything that had happened in the last six months. But it wasn’t necessary. I never realized that ten minutes could change so much.

Those ten-minute calls were ten minutes that I wasn’t working or unpacking. During those calls, I branched out from my simple plan to put off friends until I had finished my other work.

And yet, I discovered a new simplicity. Simple friendship. Simple ten-minute visits.

In your life, you may not be preoccupied with unpacking or editing books. Maybe you have decided that you can’t invest in your friends while you have toddlers at home. Maybe you feel like you have to choose between friends and exercise or friends and sleep.

Perhaps you should give simple friendship a shot. Who can you call today?

About Anna:

Anna Moseley Gissing loves words—reading, writing, speaking, teaching, and editing. When she’s not editing books for IVP Academic, you can often find her unpacking or helping her kids with homework. Connect with her on Twitter or Instagram at @amgissing.

 

***

This concludes our month on the theme “simplify.” Thank you to Anna for guest posting! Our theme for April is “Books and Writing,” and I hope to share my favorite books, podcasts and resources for new writers. I recently signed a book contract, so I am in the thick of it and have many thoughts about the writing process. I’ll also be attending The Festival of Faith and Writing in April, so I want to share some of the content I learn there with my readers. Be sure to follow me on social media and sign up for my newsletter below so you can be alerted of new posts. Please get in touch at scrapingraisins (dot) gmail (dot) com if you are interested in guest posting on this topic!

I’ll be writing a post this month for SheLoves about fasting from my Smartphone and from some social media during Lent, so you can read about how “simplifying” went for me this month.

What about you? How are you continuing to simplify? What is working for you? What isn’t working? I’d love to hear on social media or in the comments here!

Happy Easter!

xo

Leslie

Sign up for the Mid-month Digest and Secret Newsletter Here:

How to Simplify Friendship? The older we get, the more complicated friendships seem to get. How can we simplify and still have friends as we age?

Posted on

Our So-Crazy-They-Just-Might-Work Ideas {for (In)Courage}

I’m honored to share at (In)Courage today. You can read the full post here.

Sun sliced through the window of our third-story vintage (aka old and falling apart) Chicago apartment and I thought again about this idea I had entertained over the past several months. I missed living overseas, teaching, and interacting with other cultures. What if I emailed the nearby college and asked about volunteering in one of their ESL classes? I cocked my head to listen for the sleeping baby and tiptoed to the computer.

Flipping open the laptop and searching the school’s website, I scanned the list of ESL instructors. I smiled. One of them was an alumnus of my college. Searching for the right email, my ringing phone pierced the silence. I jumped up, but it was too late. The baby wailed from the other room.

Months later, I finally sent that email and got a prompt reply. Yes, there is a need for volunteers. Yes, you can bring your baby. That’s great that you lived in China and speak Mandarin, but the need is in a class of Saudi Arabian students. Can you come on Monday?

My eight-month-old on my hip, I met the instructor at the door to her classroom. The room was full of shy Saudi men and women. Some girls wore western clothing, but one donned a full burka and all the women wore the traditional hijab, a head covering of a scarf or hat over their shiny black hair.

I visited the class just four times before the teacher approached me after class with a strange question. A student had asked if she could live with us …

Continue reading at (In)Courage.

You can sign up for daily notes from (In)courage here, or sign up for the Scraping Raisins mid-monthly digest and monthly secret newsletter here:

(Image by (In)Courage)

 

Proudly powered by WordPress

Subscribe to my monthly-ish newsletter and I’ll send you the first chapter of my book Invited: The Power of Hospitality in an Age of Loneliness for FREE!

Welcome to Scraping Raisins!