Hospitality adventures

I was a little nervous about moving to the country, where friends and stores aren’t quite as convenient. “Living out of town” in small- town lingo meant we were fifteen minutes away instead of three. I grew up in a subdivision with one entrance where I befriended certain neighbors and knew plenty about the other ones. I spent four years of college living in a dorm with my best friends in my room, through the shared bathroom, down the hall, or no farther than across campus. After college, I lived in apartments in Kentucky’s two largest cities. Even in small-town Murray, I lived in two different houses off the busiest four-lane where I could walk to the park, restaurants, and stores.
I wasn’t sure what a change to country scenery would do for our social life, but the move felt right. We’re still here in a house surrounded by woods and creeks. And, guess what, friends have shown up for small group meetings, game nights filled with roasted potatoes and Settlers of Catan, lunches with chicken salad and other adoptive moms.
Rachel learned to climb stairs before we moved to the country and how I was grateful for a single-level home for my fearless girl to explore. She walked in the living room four months after we moved in and hasn’t stopped getting into things yet. She runs in the wide-open fields and loves riding through our woods and down the logging road in our Kawasaki mule.
Four years after we moved, we spent much time at home during the worldwide coronavirus epidemic. I loved my days at home, where I could drown out the chaos of the world and rest in peace at the creeks and walks down tree-lined paths. When I ventured to town to get groceries, I brought anxiety home with me. Our world shifted that spring and I’m thankful our country home calmed my heart, even though we did miss opening our doors to others during that time.
Maybe a move eight miles outside a small town doesn’t seem significant, but for me it has been. I learned dreams change and God binds together his people. I know God has me where he has me for reasons I’ve experienced deeply and ones I don’t even know about yet. …
We didn’t live here in the spring we bought this property, but we stopped by to check on things periodically. Living here when the grass and trees become greener brings healing and adventures. Now I know where the daffodils pop up, often in February, and I wonder if they’ll really survive March. Somehow they do.
Adventures don’t always come easily to me because I like order, but I’m part of a family that’s full of adventurers. And now I live in a place that beckons me to come out—out of my house and out of my comfort zone. My kids are growing up here, where the stars are easier to see and the trees shelter so much life. Since we’ve moved to the country, they’ve outgrown many pairs of shoes and pants, lost their teeth and Nerf bullets, and moved up so many notches on the growth charts.
I’ve grown up too. Greg and I have had some of the best years of our marriage here in the country, where my soul feels more relaxed and the pressure to keep too-quick a pace is less. I’ve bought muck boots, know the best entrances to the creek, and keep an eye on the turkey and deer who like to call our yard home too.
Spring on our property and in my soul makes it seem like life is always changing and being made new. But my faith remains in a constant God who faithfully ushers me into a connection with Him and my people in all the seasons. Hospitality allows us to adventure because we’re anchored to where we’ve been, where we are, and the unknown that’s still to come. Through it all, God is unchanging and asks us to seek Him all of our days.
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Happy Spring, friends! In honor of the new season blooming in our lives, I wanted to share an excerpt from my book, Bringing Home More Than Groceries: Stories About Gathering & Nourishing People. I also have a pretty download to encourage you to open your home and heart to those around you, regardless of the season. Learn more about the book and hospitality here.


