I just cleaned two, half-eaten muffins off the kitchen counter, and it almost brought tears of joy to my eyes. I know that sounds strange. On one hand, the muffins – while delicious – were not homemade, per se. They came in a pouch, just add water, egg, stir and cook. The significance was in their simplicity and what they came to symbolize. They are left over gifts from my son to his new friends. A sign of hospitality and welcome. A sign of friendship.
Last summer, my family made what was technically our third move in three years. We moved from Georgia to Illinois and then I moved to St. Louis alone to take a job, while my wife and the two children we share together stayed in Illinois. Then this past summer we bought a house and everyone moved back together. It has been quite a journey of transition, especially for my 8 year old son, Liam.
Liam is a beautiful child – filled with love and joy and imagination and humor. He is filled with compassion and care for animals, the environment, and other people, though there’s some political leaders he does not care much for, and he lets his opinions be made known. He has some issues with speech which are being addressed, but he also has difficulty making friends – in large part, I believe, to the depth of his imagination and the ways in which he retreats into himself and into those new worlds he creates in his head.
Liam had some really good friends back in Georgia, and even though he was in Illinois for only three years, he made some close friendships there, as well. Missouri has been hard for him. Here, he is learning what it means to be in the minority in terms of ethnicity and experience. Others have bullied him due to the color of his skin, assuming he feels superior because he is white. It has been a difficult period of adjustment for him, and there are days when you sense the light and joy has diminished from his eyes. Like many of us, Liam feels loneliness at times.
When buying our home, one of his conditions was to live in a neighborhood where other children lived. Right after we moved in, the house across the cul-de-sac was put on the market and all of us, especially Liam, kept a watchful eye as the house was being shown. It was his prayer (and ours on his behalf) that a family with children would move in and he would have the opportunity form relationships with new peers and experience the kinds of friendships many others have.
Our prayers were answered when the house closed just prior to Christmas, and the family moving in had children! Liam and his mother stood in our dining room looking out the window with great joy and excitement! Within days, introductions were made and a play-date was set! The new family consisted of a husband and wife, over 20 years apart in age, her daughter (age 9), and often his granddaughter (age 4). There were promises to get together soon. Liam was over the moon. Every day he asked, “When will my new friend come over?” “Why didn’t she come over to play today?” For him, “soon” meant “now.”
When the day finally came, there was great excitement in our home. It was a Saturday morning, everyone was awake, and as is her Saturday custom, my wife made breakfast for everyone. Included in our meal, a pan of blueberry muffins. Between the four of us, 6 of the 8 muffins were consumed that morning. The other two sat in the pan.
“I know what,” said Liam. “We can save them for August and Jaden.” Liam went into the kitchen and took the muffins out of the pan and with great care, placed them on a small plate and set them aside.
Three hours later, when his new friends arrived it was like a scene from Downton Abbey. Liam showed them in and walked them to the den. As introductions were being made between adults, Liam quietly went to the kitchen, retrieved the plate of now slightly stale muffins, and presented them to his guest with grace and dignity. “We have snacks. Would you like a muffin?”
Both guests took a muffin, each taking a small bite and placed them back on the plate. The muffins were soon forgotten as the children headed to the basement to play and begin creating a new friendship.
“And Jesus, gathered with his disciples, took the blueberry muffin, broke it and said, ‘Take and eat. This is for you. You are my guest, and I welcome you.’”
(1 Corinthians 11:24, paraphrased)
There is indeed something beautiful and sacramental about sharing, giving, and hospitality. About welcoming strangers into safe and sacred space with the hope and anticipation that friendship will blossom. Hospitality is about hope – hope fulfilled and hope formed. Sometimes it comes in a place of worship with pastors and priests and smells and bells. Sometimes it comes in the comfort of home with blueberry muffins.
The muffins were never finished. They sat on the counter for the remainder of the visit, and so I threw them away. That is ok. They served their purpose. They nourished a little boy and his new friends. Those muffins led to prayer and hope being answered.
I like to look for the sacred and the holy within the mundane and every day. I think it is to be found there more often than in the high and mighty steeples and sanctuaries. On a Saturday in January, I found the sacred and the holy right there in my living room – in a pouch of common muffins – and in the hospitable acts of a child desiring friendship.
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