Last year my neighbor was having a very difficult period. Her dad was in poor health and was sent home to remain comfortable until he passed. She was the sole caregiver, and she was overwhelmed. I walked outside to find her very sad and stressed. My heart broke for her. I talked with her for a few minutes, then invited her over for a cup of tea. I had just made my kids oatmeal for breakfast and she remarked how wonderful it smelled. So I made her some too. We sat together talked about life's ups and downs over oatmeal. It was not an extravagant meal at all. As a matter of fact, I felt kind of bad that that's what I made her. But it was what she wanted, so I made it for her. When the early church was getting together and sharing their meals, they weren't extravagant either. They were their every day meals, shared among friends. This is what hospitality looks like. Opening our doors, tables and hearts for those around us. As she left that day, I hoped that she found our time together to be a blessing. I know I did.
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