My three year old daughter is teaching me things. She’s teaching me about how to play puppies, that trying on skirts requires a pirouette, and that the best way to take down her unsuspecting daddy is to jump on him while he’s sleeping and Hulk-smash his stomach. But last night at gymnastics she taught me something about how to love other people.

One of the things I’m grateful for about the family I grew up in is an awareness of appropriateness and social niceties. What we do and do not do around others. It’s important and something that I’m trying to instil in my children. But sometimes it can go to far. And last night at gymnastics there was a situation where this sense of appropriateness was a little offended.

There is a little girl there my daughter’s age and she’s very very friendly. Everyone and anyone is her friend. And my daughter is the same. But last night some of this little girl’s behaviours rankled with me. She would come over and scoop up my son’s book without asking, and take my daughter’s toy. Nothing mean-spirited, but I didn’t like it because it’s ours and she’s not supposed to touch our stuff. And I tried to be nice. I tried not to care, but I did care. I cared that she was crossing those boundaries that I had set up in my mind of how we do and do not interact with people.

But my daughter didn’t care. She freely shared what she had with this other girl because “she’s my friend”. And she was my daughter’s friend without my daughter knowing her name. She was my daughter’s friend because she was there and they interacted. They both wanted to be in each other’s presence and the time and place provided for that.

And this got me thinking about hospitality. The old chorus “Freely, freely you have received, freely, freely give” started going through my head. I’m not kidding. It really did. At that moment, when this little girl was shoving her small person into my mind-constructed little family unit space. Ok, God, I thought, the song is about telling others about Jesus’ love and death for our sins, but is there more here you’re trying to tell me?

Maybe what I was being called to freely give was my time and space. Maybe what I was being called to give was my grace. This little girl rushes around every gymnastics night seeking so desperately to make a connection with people. She gets a little to close, puts her hand out, reaches for connection. And I started really looking at her. What was her story? What void was there in her small life that made her so frantic for attention and connection? Did it really matter?

What matters is that I was given the opportunity to practice hospitality. To really look at a person and let them know by words and actions that they are welcome in my space. This wasn’t my house, my yard, my vehicle. She needed to feel welcome in the space that I occupied. Welcome to share in my time, my books, my attention.

Hebrews 13:1-2 says “Keep on loving each other as brothers and sisters. Do not forget to entertain strangers, for by doing so some have entertained angels unawares.”

What if God is calling us to take hospitality and expand it to include not only extending from our homes, but extending from ourselves when we’re out in the world? Making people feel welcome in our space? Jesus never seemed to have a home, per se, all during his ministry. But wherever he was people were welcomed. They had his attention, shared his time, his space, his ear, his mercy. He shared food when he had it, but it was about more than the perfect place setting.

And maybe this can take some of the pressure off. Sometimes the bar to hospitality for people is their home and entertaining ability itself. If we need to have the home spotless and the food gourmet, I don’t know who could keep up the hospitality pace. But if hospitality can start with sharing of ourselves, and can happen anywhere and anytime, maybe we’ll encounter more angels, or discover new ways to love other people wherever we are.