Sandra Heska King

daring to open doors

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Seasons of Serving and the Nature of Love

August 11, 2011 By Sandra Heska King

“I can’t,” I snapped.

She faded back into the living room and left me alone with my pots and oils.

And chopsticks.

Newly married and still giddy from San Francisco and Chinatown, I planned my first dinner party from scratch–sweet and sour chicken, homemade egg rolls, and fried apple (?) somethings (I think) that kept me in the kitchen alone nearly two hours past serving time.

A perfect recipe for cranky.

I had a painting party. I bought a large framed canvas and oil paints and brushes. I made bib aprons (probably by hand) and invited some of my husband’s coworkers over to make a painting.

Then there was the soup party. I made the stock, and friends brought ingredients to toss in.

And the New Year’s Even open house with games and squealing over Skittles.

And the roots party where everyone brought a dish that somehow reflected their heritage.

And the women’s luncheon with tables set up under the trees in the backyard and little clay pots holding tableware.

All planned by a better prepared and more relaxed hostess with a much improved attitude.

Before kids.

Then in-home entertainment extravaganzas become a bit of a blur.

Life in general after kids becomes a bit of a blur, I suppose.

I remember occasional overnight company, a progressive meal stop, in-home Bible studies.

I continued to minister outside our home.

For the most part, adult fun stopped.

But the door revolved, and I stayed up late and got up early and listened to adolescent drama and worried and made Grandpa’s pancakes and collected soccer snacks.

Some troubled kids came and went.

And we got burned.

We moved from simply sullen teen to survival mode.

Chaos reigned.

Bringing CHAOS (can’t have anyone over syndrome.)

We couldn’t wouldn’t take a chance on having to deal with a crisis in the middle of a party.

Or a simple soup supper.

We turned inward.

Nobody reached out to support us.

And we did not seek them out.

I stopped teaching.

I felt like a fake.

And a failure.

I closed my heart.

Oh. So. Tired.

I slammed the door.

And locked it.

But God’s door was (is) always open, and I’d crawl in and climb up into His lap and just sit.

And He’d love on me.

And drip grace.

And bit by bit, my heart unfurled.

Until I could serve my family with new energy and tiptoe back into ministry.

And though I haven’t planned any more of those fun get-togethers, I’m freed to serve now in more quiet ways.

I suppose it’s in my core, this serving.

Part of who I am, how I’m wired, how I’m trained.

Years ago as I rushed past his room, I heard him shout.

“Waitress! Hey! Waitress!”

He could have been disoriented.

Or maybe it was my blue pin-striped dress topped with the flared white apron that confused him.

And he needed some care and feeding. Maybe some fresh ice water.

He needed someone to serve him, to listen, to hold his hand and sooth his brow.

Quietly.

One on one.

He was in the hospital after all.

And had need of healing in body and spirit.

And hope.

A hospitable heart leaks that.

Healing and hope.

I’ve learned there are seasons of serving.

My job is to let lean into them, to lean into Him and let Him infuse me with His love.

Then simply dispense it dose by dose, word by word, touch by touch.

Hospitality should have no other nature but love. ~Henrietta Mears

 

This week Bonnie asks us to share on the topic of hospitality.

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And Emily–sweet Emily’s heart beats for Africa today, and she asks us to swing wide our heart doors.

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Comments

  1. Duane Scott says

    August 12, 2011 at 11:09 am

    Sandy,

    Seasons of serving.

    This blog today that you wrote is a season. Your writing continues to get better and better and I love it. 🙂

    • Sandra says

      August 13, 2011 at 8:47 am

      Thanks, Duane. Step back–hug attack!

  2. Linda says

    August 12, 2011 at 12:51 pm

    I haven’t had much time to visit these past several days, but your words slowed me down for a few minutes Sandy. This is so moving; I feel it all with you. Yes…seasons, and always Him being there. This was just beautiful, touching and so real. Thank you.

    • Sandra says

      August 13, 2011 at 8:48 am

      Thanks so much, Linda. I know how that time thing goes. I haven’t had time to get around as much as I want, either. And I know I’m missing out big time. Hugs to you.

  3. S. Etole says

    August 12, 2011 at 5:56 pm

    Your heart is showing … in your words and actions and photos!

    • Sandra says

      August 13, 2011 at 8:49 am

      😀 😀

  4. imperfect prose says

    August 12, 2011 at 11:39 pm

    first of all, i LOVE the sound of your painting party 🙂 so cool. and secondly, i love how in tune you are with his spirit… how you walk alongside, and how you listen. it’s so beautiful.

    • Sandra says

      August 13, 2011 at 8:50 am

      It was so much fun, Emily. I know I have photos in one of our albums. I’ll have to dig it out. We hung it on our wall for the longest time. I don’t know what happened to it. 🙁

      And thank you for your sweet words.

  5. Faith Barista Bonnie says

    August 16, 2011 at 11:53 pm

    Hi Sandy! I have a similar story too. I prefer 1-1 or smaller groups now myself. And quiet ways of connecting. I used to feel sad I’m so different than I was before, until I realized I’m still that same person, just expressing that love for people differently. That part of us who opens heart side for others is still there, you and I. God just wants to use us differently. And there will come a season when we’ll be opening them up large again, maybe. It’s all the same to Him — by faith, it’s is all equal, glorious and beauty to Jesus. 🙂 My time to step back into a bigger space of ministry may be coming. And I’m praying I carry this wonderful gift of faith with me there again. Small, medium or large, I am confident my decade in solitude and 1-1 will keep me quiet within and listening to Him. What a good friend you are, sharing all this beauty with us. Thank you!

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