After a few weeks, the questions turned to food. No matter what time it was or what we were about to do, every time we got into the car with someone, they would promptly ask, "Have you eaten?" We never tried it, I would guess if we had ever said we were hungry, they would have put the pedal to the floor in search of acceptable food choices.
In these past few weeks together, we have been getting a different question when gathering with folks. "What will you miss the most?"
The food.
The people.
Table fellowship.
"In the beginning was the Word. It was only when human beings appeared that the Word became food on a table. We know that language allows us to understand each other and to express what we think and feel. We humans, however, are more than language. We humans are cookingage, i.e., that which allows us to prepare the food with which we can nourish not only our body, but also our spirit. It was when we started to cook our first meals and when we started to conjugate the incarnate Word that we noticed that we were human. Both table and Word humanize us. No wonder it is essential that the table on which our meals are served be conjoined with good conversation: at the table, the word is essential." -- Forward by Joaquín Racionero Page(From "Theology of Food: Eating and the Eucharist" by Angel F. Méndez Montoya, vi)
Hospitality is about more than giving. I think there's also an element of receiving in it too. Showing hospitality has been instilled in me from a young age. My mom was always hosting parties and dinners when we were growing up. It seemed no matter where we moved, one thing remained constant -- our house was a place to gather, a place to eat, and a place to have fellowship. I don't remember going to as many parties as we hosted when I was growing up. It wasn't just parties, either. We constantly had people staying at our house overnight. Later, Mom would laugh and called the house Hotel Habermehl, but I remember it vividly. No matter who it was -- grandparents or friends of friends -- everyone was welcome at our house for as long as they needed to be there.
Therefore, as I grew older, I became very good at hosting and not so great at receiving hospitality.
Okay, let me be clear: my body rejects hospitality like it rejects red meat and dairy products. I'm simply not very good at being taken care of. I'm the worst guest if you expect me to just relax and receive. I'm the kind of guest you invite over before the party so I can clean your house and help bake the pies. I'm not entirely sure what it is about receiving that grates me. It probably has to do with my perfectionist tendencies and my over- achiever work ethic. Whatever it is, I was in for a rude awakening in Malaysia.
Learning to accept hospitality and assistance has been the hardest for me this year. It has taken me nearly six months to even write about how it has affected my life. We spent the year without a car, in a foreign place, with foreign food, immersed in a different language. All of these things meant I had to learn how to accept the hospitality of others.
We had to ask people (in the beginning, they were complete strangers) to take us to the grocery store.
We had to call people to ask them what words meant in an Indian restaurant.
We went to lunch with people who ordered food for us without even knowing if we would eat it.
People drove us home from church and restaurants constantly because we had no way of transporting ourselves.
We were completely reliant on other people for things we never would have imagined before.
It was weird. It drove me insane. I fought back against it. But it changed me and formed me into a woman who can -- even if I don't really want to -- accept hospitality. And as I reflect on all the things I could miss about Malaysia, my heart keeps going back to the people, their hospitality, and especially their food. It's how they show that they care deeply for us and want us to be happy (and fed). And my goodness, is it biblical and wonderful. I miss it desperately and I can't wait to get back for more.
