“Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers,” wrote the author of Hebrews, “for by this some have entertained angels without knowing it.”
“Did we talk about that [the following event] then?” I asked Sissy the other day.
“I don’t remember,” she responded. Maybe our brains were still reeling from the bourbon.
I asked my husband when we last talked about it, and he thought it might have been while we were discussing the family heirlooms and what we would leave with our daughter when we move.
Like the 1976 Michigan bicentennial license plate that hangs in our garage.
We lived in Roswell, Georgia, then and drove down to the International House of Pancakes in Sandy Springs for Saturday morning breakfast. We pulled into the parking lot right behind an older couple driving a car that sported a Michigan plate. I was so excited to have a taste of home that I bounced in my seat and frantically pointed. Knowing I didn’t carry a license for rudeness, I apologized when the pair joined us in the waiting line. I explained we’d been living away from Michigan now for three years, and I was a bit homesick. The place was crowded, standing room only. When a table for four was finally available, we invited them to join us.
And that’s when we discovered . . .
I’m hosting over at GraceTable today. Follow me there to read what happened next…
In the stillness,
Sandy
