The Holy Chaos of Hospitality: Embracing an Open-Door Gospel

I was wiping down the kitchen table for the third time that morning when I realized I was not cleaning for the family. I was cleaning for the possibility that someone might stop by. And I was not even sure who that someone was. A neighbor I had not seen in weeks. A visiting teacher who might text. Or a friend from church who lived three streets over and had never been inside my house.

I stood there with the rag in my hand and I thought about how much energy I spent getting ready for guests who never came. And how many times I had not invited anyone because the house was not ready for them.

I almost did not write this because I have been sitting with something about hospitality for a while. What it actually means in a gospel sense. I grew up thinking it meant matching throw pillows and a charcuterie board. But I am starting to see a different version. The version where you open the door and let someone see your real life.

LDS Hospitality Tips for Busy Moms

I used to think hospitality was about preparation. You clean the house and you plan the menu and you set the table and then you invite someone over to enjoy the thing you have prepared. That is one kind of hospitality. But there is another kind I am learning about.

The honest version is that I invite someone over and then we clean the house together. Or I do not clean it at all and I just apologize for the toys and hand them a cup of something warm. The preparation happens after the invitation, not before.

I think about the women in the scriptures who opened their homes. They did not have Pinterest boards or grocery delivery. They had a fire and some bread and a willingness to share what they had. That is the model I am trying to follow. A willingness to share what I have, even when what I have is a messy kitchen and a toddler who drew on the wall.

How to Welcome People Into a Messy Home Gospel

The toddler drew on the wall with a purple marker this morning. I have not cleaned it yet. It is still there on the wall in the hallway and I walk past it every time I go to the kitchen. I used to scrub it off before anyone came over. Now I leave it.

I leave it because it is part of the story of this house. It is part of what happened here today. And when someone walks through my door and sees that purple line on the wall, they know something true about this home. They know that real children live here and that real life happens here and that I am being honest about it.

I think that is what people actually need. A house where they can be themselves because the person who lives there is already being herself. A spotless house is nice. But a house where you can breathe is better.

I wrote about this in Redefining Hospitality in the LDS Home: From Perfect Presentation to Spiritual Welcome and I keep coming back to the same idea. The welcome is the point. Everything else is just details.

Overcoming the Pressure of a Perfect Home for Guests

The pressure is real. I know because I feel it every time I think about inviting someone over. The voice that says the baseboards are dusty and the couch has a stain and the bathroom needs to be scrubbed. I have learned to recognize that voice for what it is. It sounds like a call to clean but it is really a barrier to connection.

I have started asking myself a different question when I feel that pressure. Instead of asking what needs to be cleaned, I ask what needs to be shared. Who needs to be in this house today. Who needs to sit at this table and feel like they belong somewhere.

The answer is almost always someone specific. A young mother from church who looks tired, a neighbor who has been through something hard, a friend who has not had a real conversation in weeks. And when I think about that person instead of the baseboards, the pressure lifts.

Simple Ways to Practice Christian Hospitality With Kids

The children are part of the hospitality in this house whether I plan for it or not. The toddler will show up with a toy she wants to share. The second-grader will ask the guest a question about their favorite animal. And the middle-schooler will offer to show them his baseball card collection. The teenager will roll her eyes and then sit down anyway.

I used to apologize for this. I used to shush them and try to create the quiet, controlled environment I thought hospitality required. But I have stopped doing that. The children are part of the welcome now and they are the hospitality itself.

When my children see me welcome someone into a messy house, they learn something. They learn that people matter more than things. They learn that you do not have to be ready to be generous. And they learn that the gospel works in real time, in real homes, with real messes.

Balancing Home Cleaning and Ministering in the LDS Faith

I have a friend who told me something I think about all the time. She said she used to spend the whole morning cleaning before the Relief Society president came to visit. And then one day she realized that the Relief Society president was coming to minister to her, to inspect her house.

That changed everything for me. I started thinking about the people who walk through my door and what they actually need from me. A clean kitchen is nice. A listening ear is better. And I cannot give them a listening ear if I am too busy cleaning to sit down.

I think about the Savior and how He ministered. He did not ask people to come to a clean house. He met them where they were. At the well and on the hillside and in the middle of a crowd. He met them in the chaos. And I think that is what I am supposed to do too.

And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me (Matthew 25:40).

I keep that verse in my mind when I am tempted to close the door because the house is not ready. The least of these are coming because they need to be seen. And I can do that. I can see them. Even if the purple marker is still on the wall.

Frequently Asked Questions

How do I stop feeling guilty that my house is not perfect when guests come over?

I shift my focus from the standard of the house to the standard of the heart. Most guests are more interested in feeling welcome than they are in seeing a spotless living room. And when I am honest about the mess, it actually helps them feel more at ease. They stop comparing their own home to an impossible standard.

What are some quick, low-stress ways to practice hospitality with a young family?

I keep it simple. A twenty-minute visit with a cup of tea and a plate of cookies. An invitation to come over while the kids play in the backyard. A text that says I am making coffee at ten if you want to stop by. The goal is connection, not a curated experience. The smaller the invitation, the more likely I am to actually make it.

How can I involve my children in welcoming others?

I give them a specific job. The toddler can bring a toy to show the guest. The second-grader can help clear a spot on the couch. And the middle-schooler can offer a drink. When they help, they learn that serving others is a joy and that people are more important than a tidy house.

What if I feel like my home is too small or too chaotic to host?

I have felt this too. But I have learned that the people who come into my home are looking for warmth, for space. A small, chaotic home where someone is genuinely glad to see you is better than a large, quiet home where you feel like you are intruding.

Is it okay to ask guests to help with the mess when they arrive?

Yes. I have started saying things like the toys are everywhere but we are having a good day and I am glad you are here. That honesty takes the pressure off everyone. And sometimes the guest picks up a toy and hands it to the toddler and that becomes part of the connection.

I put the rag down and I did not wipe the table a fourth time. I texted the neighbor I had been thinking about and I said I am making pancakes at six if you want to come. The house was not ready. The purple marker was still on the wall. But I opened the door anyway and that is the part that matters.

with love, Melissa