Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it.
Over the weekend, I successfully moved from our apartment into a house. This was our fifth move in less than two years, moves that were necessitated by ever-changing housing needs with our sick loved one. This final move was out of multi-family housing back into a neighborhood, not unlike the one where I grew up. It turns out it’s difficult to live in multi-family housing with someone who has a significant mental illness. Now we have a little more separation between us and any neighbors, and no cramped elevator to endure with our loved-one’s ramblings and critiques of everyone else in the elevator.
The last night in our apartment, much to our surprise, our loved one called. Tentative and nervous, they told us about what’s been happening at the hospital, and asked for some of their things here. To our even greater surprise, they called back Saturday and Sunday nights too. Over the past three days, we talked probably two hours, more than we have in the past five months. They sounded great, with a positive outlook and comments. There’s still a significant disconnect from my reality, but it was a great step.
They continue to have no interest in returning to our house, but rather are eagerly awaiting the housing they’ll be given, along with sufficient money from disability to sustain an independent and rich life. I don’t quite see how that’s going to happen, but I’m glad they have a sense of hope about the future. We’ll walk with them as they try to navigate a more independent future, meanwhile continue to make a hospitable environment should that plan not work.
While my loved one is not a stranger, they have definitely been increasingly estranged for the past five months. And hard to live with. And hard to host. And just plan hard. I fully believe I am called to be hospitable. By doing so, I am not only entertaining angels without knowing it, I am also serving Christ.
And now I have a driveway, and street parking, and room for a bigger dining room table, and a spare bedroom, so I can entertain or be hospitable to other angels, which gives me deep gladness.
This morning, I’m thinking about being hospitable, and how good it is for my soul to be equipped to host both my sick loved one and others. I have a sense of having set anchor, as a friend of mine put it. Anchor in a possibly incoming storm. And I am exceedingly content.
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