My Home

Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins. Offer hospitality to one another without grumbling. Each of you should use whatever gift you have received to serve others, as faithful stewards of God’s grace in its various forms.

—1 Peter 4:8–10

I always wanted a home filled with people. Our home growing up was quite private. My dad worked long hours at our church, and my mom is an introvert, and those two dynamics created a home that was quiet, private, safe. It was exactly right for my family, but at the same time, I longed for a little loud. I wanted a full table, glasses clinking, laughter bubbling up over the music. I wanted cars parked all the way down the street, and people who came in without knocking, so familiar with our home that they mixed their own drinks and knew where to put the dishes after drying them.

When I moved into my own house, that’s exactly what I did. The day I closed on it, I invited a bunch of friends over. It was completely empty because I hadn’t yet moved in any furniture, so we sat in a circle on plastic deck chairs, eating chips and salsa served on one of those little tables you roll up and take to the beach. I filled that little town house with people I loved every chance I got—with welcome-to-town parties and going-away parties, gatherings for award shows and dinner parties.