Last night we hosted our third annual church staff Christmas party and it was grand! I think the meal, at least my part of it could have used some cpr. I just don’t think  spaghetti was the way to go. Unfortunately I didn’t come to that conclusion until after the party.

Hindsight, I tell you, can be a killer.

Early on in the evening, I was in the kitchen getting the last minute things ready, putting food in serving bowls etc, when the pastor walked in and asked to use the restroom. I pointed him in the right direction and went back to work.
“I found someone’s slippers.” He said and I glanced at his feet and noticed they were encased in dark slippers and so I thought I had misunderstood him and he had actually told me he brought his own slippers.
“Who’s are they?” I think that a very funny question because after all, if he brought them they should technically be his, right? Only he didn’t say he brought his slippers. He found some slippers. I glanced again at his feet and said, “Oh those are mine.” Again I went back to what I was doing.

I thought as soon as he heard they were my slippers he would be sure to kick them off. It would be one thing, in his mind, if they belonged to Mr. FullCup and he wore them but something else entirely if he wore them and they belonged to me. A man I am not.

My powers of observation aren’t always what they could be. For example, I didn’t notice when he exited the bathroom and I didn’t notice his feet at all for the rest of the evening.

At least until he got up from the table, kicked off my slippers and said proudly, “You can have your slippers back” and laughed. His poor wife about died on the spot and said his first and middle names. If we learn one thing, we have middle names so we all know when we’re in trouble.

Really it didn’t bother me in the least that he wore them. I’m not entirely sure I can put them on again. I just have a weird idiosyncrasy that way. If one of the ladies had slipped them on, I’d have no problem at all wearing them, I’m not entirely sure what my hang up is but there you have it.

Today as I reflected on the shindig I realized my favorite part of the whole evening was when the pastor wore my slippers.  It seems a bit odd even to me, but it’s true.

It is true because I want to have the kind of house, be the kind person people just naturally feel comfortable with.  I want others to feel as comfortable in my house as they do in their own. I want them to feel comfortable enough to wear my slippers, raid my fridge, eat my food and say the hard things to me.

No one said anything “hard” to me last night. And in fact until I read the words on the page I wasn’t aware I felt that way but I find it’s true. I do want people, people who know me and love me to feel comfortable enough to tell me when I’m missing the boat. To tell me what I don’t want to hear.  To not fear the loss of friendship if they speak truth into my life.

I really want a mi casa, su casa home and heart. Maybe I’ll work on that this year.