imperfect hospitality ~ being more mary and less martha


As Jesus and his disciples were on their way, he came to a village where a woman named Martha opened her home to him. She had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet listening to what he said. But Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made. She came to him and asked, “Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!”

“Martha, Martha,” the Lord answered, “you are worried and upset about many things, but few things are needed—or indeed only one.[a] Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.”
— Luke 10:38-42

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If you are a Christian woman, by now you have probably heard the story of Mary and Martha—the sisters who opened their home to Jesus and his disciples. While Martha was busy making preparations, as any good host would, Mary simply sat and listened to Jesus. When Martha complained, Jesus addressed with words that, if you pride yourself in being a good hostess, would sting if directed at you: you are worried and upset about many things, but only one thing is needed. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her."

The practical feisty Puerto Rican woman in me reads these words and thinks “Ah, ah, Jesus. Hold up a moment— how is Martha at fault? She is trying to welcome you and your disciples in a comfortable way. Here she is working hard and you basically scolded her. Do you want to eat? Because the food doesn’t prepare itself. So you better be nice to my girl, Martha”. But then I step back and rile the Puerto Rican back in and the Christian woman in me recognizes wisdom and meaning of His words.

My instant reaction to defend Martha is due to the fact that, for better or worse, I AM A MARTHA. I am not perfect. I am a work in progress. And truth be told, a part of me loves being a Martha. I love practicing hospitality as a way of showing love. Caring for my guests—whether through cooking, entertaining, etc.—is how I show love. But for the longest time, I took it to the extreme. I still do sometimes.

Can I confess something to you? For the longest time, I did not practice hospitality because I was afraid that my efforts would not be perfect. I wanted my guests to have a “perfect” experience and that involved making sure everything was… well, perfect. The fear that any of my guests would find something wrong sometimes crippled my efforts. A few times I cancelled gatherings and events because they would not be perfect. This is in complete contrast to how I grew up in a Latino family. Welcoming others into our home was not about perfection but about imperfect hospitality and it was a beautiful thing.

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Imperfect hospitality

can seem like a burden but it is not. It is so beautiful. It is spur of the moment. It is genuine… loving…giving… from the heart.

This self-reality is why I really relate and love the Mary and Martha story—it reminds me of who I am but also of how to focus on what is important. Jesus’ comment is about focusing in what is truly important and in that moment it was the presence of Jesus—the presence of God in human form.

How many times are we so worried and busy that we miss God’s presence in our lives? We are running around until we are exhausted and in the process we stop listening to God; we stop learning from his teachings. We let our daily lives become so consuming that we only give God partial attention instead of what He deserves—our full attention. We cannot listen in the hectic chaos of life so we have to be intentional about stopping and sitting at the feet of Jesus.

I want us to say this out loud together—stopping and sitting at the feet of Jesus. This is important because to do this we have to acknowledge that we are Martha. And being a Martha recognizes that, in the scheme of things, God has not been the most important thing. It recognizes that we have ignored God’s presence. It is a sobering realization but necessary it is.

The Christmas season is finally here and with it the pressures of being that perfect hostess. And if we Marthas are not careful, we will go down the rabitt hole of trying to achieve perfection, and we will miss the true reason for the season. So, today dear sisters, my wish and prayer is for all of us Marthas to recognize who we are and what we are made of. To tell ourselves that imperfect hospitality is ok because it is about connecting and nurturing relationships rather than impressing others. To have self-awareness of our relationship with God when life gets crazy. To realize that God has not been the priority in our lives and allowing ourselves to re-gauge our focus to Him. But most importantly— to stop, sitting at the feet of Jesus, and allowing His mercy and love wash over us.

I may be found here: Inspire Me Monday, GraceFull Tuesday, Let’s Have Coffee, Hearts Encouragement, Encouraging Hearts & Home, Fresh Market Friday

Flowers for When The Heart Is Broken ~ For the Love of My Dog


Dogs’ lives are short, too short, but you know that going in. You know the pain is coming, you’re going to lose a dog, and there’s going to be great anguish, so you live fully in the moment with her, never fail to share her joy or delight in her innocence, because you can’t support the illusion that a dog can be your lifelong companion. There’s such beauty in the hard honesty of that, in accepting and giving love while always aware that it comes with an unbearable price.
— Dean Koontz

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On Monday, I had to say goodbye to my dog Jack. He was two-months shy of 17 years old, five of which I was his owner.  I have had dogs before and have also experienced the grief and heartbreak that comes with making that decision for them, and saying goodbye. But this time it felt different because unlike my other dogs— Rummer and Snoopy— Jack was not sick; his age simply caught up with him.  It was not a decision made because an illness was taking him. This time it was about dignity. Last Saturday I went to the vet, we discussed it and he agreed that it was time. That confirmation hit me like a truck even though I was prepared for the possibility. Here it was— that moment I have read about when you are called, as a responsible dog parent, to make that ultimate gesture of love for your canine companion. And so I did.

Saying goodbye to Jack Frost (as I called him because he loved snow) had the crushing power of Snoopy and Rummer’s death all roll into one, and it waited the entire weekend to hit me like a jackhammer. But instead of letting that rule our last day, I spent it with Jack doing what we love to do most— snuggling and watching Hallmark movies. I spent Jack’s last few hours alone with him. I gave him his pain pill, cuddled with him wrapped with his favorite knitted blanket, which he marked as his last summer on the same day I bought it. And I fed him venison and ice cream— he loved it. Then the light snow started falling and I thought of how appropriate it was for a dog who loves snow to have snow on his last day on this earth. We went out for a little walk and then he wanted to eat snow... and guess what? I let him.

Then with his dignity unbroken, we went to see Dr. Murphy. As he drifted, I rubbed his fur, especially that spot on top of his head that always seemed extra soft. I tried to memorize the feel of his fur on my fingers. At that moment I wanted to say “Stop! I haven’t had enough time with him!”, but he was ready. He was tired. As he drifted, I told him he was the best doggie ever and that it was my honor to be his mom. That I hope he knew that his other parents loved him to the moon and back. I thanked him for being such a good boy... and then it was over. He looked like he did a hundred time when he was asleep— peacefully slumbering with the little tip of his tongue sticking out. I could see those little Wheaten teeth and I chuckled; and then the dam of tears opened and my heart broke into a thousand pieces.💔

The next day was even worse as I had to face the reality, as I looked at his things, that he is not here anymore. A wet spot on his bed where he drooled in his sleep served as a reminder that hours ago he had been here with us. And as hot tears streamed down my face while I was cleaning his food bowls, still holding pieces of chicken he left the day before, the doorbell rang and a parcel for me was delivered. Flowers. Beautiful flower from another friend and fellow Wheaten terrier momma. When I thanked her via messenger on Instagram she said “One thing I know, you LOVE dogs and flowers. I hope these make you smile.”  She knows me well.

‘Pink Ice’ protea, pink stock, ‘Cymbidium’ orchids, light peach roses, amaranth, fresh eucalyptus, lilies and Bronze Football mums… all beautiful and vibrant. It is the blessing of a gardener that the gift of flowers can bring such joy even at moments like these.

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The beautiful burlap-wrapped flowers just lifted my broken heart. They are bold in color and with such personality... just like my crazy Jack had. And as I smiled, I knew that eventually, some day, I will be able to think about Jack without falling apart.

I have heard that the pieces of a broken heart grow back together and make space for more love. Maybe one day I’ll be ready to give love to another dog— I know I will. But Jack’s death just broke me hard. And I think part of it, is that he represents one of my last connections to my life before I got married three years ago. He was with me for 5 years, but so much happened and it felt like he was with me for much longer. His departing literally took my breath away. Now here I am, going between moments of calm and moments of straight up ugly-crying, but I continue to live and will continue to strive to be the awesome person Jack, as well as Snoopy and Rummer, saw me as. ❤️

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