Temperamentally, I am a woman who is always filled with longing. I suppose because of my background in the conservative church, I might have absorbed some kind of unexamined lore that a Christian woman should be content, satisfied in her spiritual journey and not filled with dissonance of any kind. That would be nice, but it is not who I am.

The longing that haunts me and has always haunted me is not for things or for material possessions; it is for harmony, order and beauty. And because, in so much of my life, I am not able to create harmony, order and beauty, I have to carefully watch that my soul doesn’t begin to paddle around in puddles of sour frustration.

For me, this has been a kind of curse. And I do not want to be like one of the female characters in the movie Enchanted April who was described by her puzzled husband as an eternally “disappointed Madonna.”

In his book The Holy Longing, Ronald Rolheiser says that “spirituality concerns what we do with desire.” Now that is something to think about—spirituality concerns what we do with desire…

So, what do I do with this disconsolate subtext that has always been so much a part of my interior makeup? Would I attempt to create harmony, order and beauty—in my home, in my office, in my writing, and in my human relationships—if I didn’t have a longing for them. Perhaps this is a longing God has given to me—this uncomfortable dissatisfaction. Perhaps it is the ones who long for a better world who work to create a better world. Perhaps good Christian women are not so content after all, but should be people who do something with their discontent. Perhaps this longing is a faint primal memory of some sort—a memory of when things were perfect, when there was harmony, order, and beauty in the world. Perhaps there is a genetic knowing of Eden, Paradise that was and a DNA premonition of what will be, Heaven, Paradise to come. Perhaps my particular spirituality needs to leverage this unsatisfied longing. Perhaps I need to be grateful that I am a woman who has learned to live with this unsatisfied desire.

It is an enormous comfort, consequently, for me to know that my unfulfilled longings will one day be at rest in a place, Paradise, where everything is finally as it should be.

But for now, every time longing for harmony, for order, and for beauty rises in my soul, I attempt to turn it to that One in whom all longings are eventually satisfied. Christ is the originator of harmony, of order, and of all things beautiful. “Let me give you this longing,” I pray, “this unfulfilled hope. Turn my dissatisfaction into desire for You.”

In the meantime, I’ll attempt to turn this longing into something useful.


Karen Mains
KM1-19

Other projects involving Karen right now are: Working with teams of Christian women to design Retreats of Silence, in both 24-hours and three-days formats, through the aegis of Hungry Souls. Developing hospitality initiatives that train Christian men and women how to use their own homes in caring outreaches through the Open Heart, Open Home ministries. Launching the Global Bag Project, a worldwide effort that markets sustainable cloth shopping bags to provide sustainable incomes for bag-makers in developing nations. Researching the impact of listening groups while overseeing some 240 small groups over the last three years. Experimenting with teleconference mentoring for Wannabe (Better) Writers. Designing the Tales of the Kingdom Web site.

“You have some of the best blood work I’ve seen,” said my physician, looking over the results of my tests. “Uh, what about my cholesterol levels?” I inquired—my family has a genetic predisposition to high cholesterol counts—the bad kind of cholesterol. “Well, it’s not here,” she answered, scanning the computer printouts. “That’s crazy. I’ll have to call the lab and get them to send the rest of the results.”

Sure enough, the next session with my doctor was not so positive. My cholesterol count was high, very high—329 points. “I’m putting you on a special diet, and if that doesn’t have immediate results, we’ll have to go the medication route.” (“A walking heart attack waiting to happen!” was my daughter’s encouraging spin on the problem.)

So right now I am watching everything I eat. No sugar—in anything. Sugar pumps insulin into the bloodstream and that produces cholesterol. Ironically, I am following the exact precautionary diet that my daughter-in-law who is diabetic follows. And the truth is, right now, my diet is a matter of life and death. I have to keep reminding myself: If nothing remedies quickly, I am a walking heart attack (or stroke) waiting to happen.

For the last seven years, I have been working with a super group of Christian women in developing spiritual-growth tools that actually work in everyday lives in modern contexts. The name of this ministry is Hungry Souls. We’ve discovered that the same principle for watching our diet that works on the physical level also works on the spiritual plane. What we consume, what we take in affects our spiritual health. The questions Christian women need to ask themselves is: What on earth am I eating? Am I chewing on Scripture and swallowing it so my soul can absorb its nutrients? Am I partaking of Christ, the Bread of Life?

I find that watching my physical diet works best when I am intentional about what I put into my mouth. For me, that means giving some thought to my eating each morning. It is dangerous for me to just grab stuff. I have to stop and think, What am I going to have for breakfast that is healthy for me? What am I going to take to work? What snacks are appropriate? What do I need to avoid? I am also learning to remember to pray before I put anything into my mouth, “Lord, is this going to be good for my body?”

Eating spiritually needs the same kind of intentionality. What I am eating today that will nourish my soul? What do I need to avoid?  Feeding well starts at the beginning of each day by asking myself, “What will be good for my soul today?” Then I need to end each day with a similar question, “What did I take in that was harmful for my soul?”

What we eat spiritually is also a matter of life and death. Here’s to a healthy diet!

“My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Saviour … for he has filled the hungry with good things.” Luke 1:46-47,53a.


Karen Mains
KM1-18

Other projects involving Karen right now are: Working with teams of Christian women to design Retreats of Silence, in both 24-hours and three-days formats, through the aegis of Hungry Souls. Developing hospitality initiatives that train Christian men and women how to use their own homes in caring outreaches through the Open Heart, Open Home ministries. Launching the Global Bag Project, a worldwide effort that markets sustainable cloth shopping bags to provide sustainable incomes for bag-makers in developing nations. Researching the impact of listening groups while overseeing some 240 small groups over the last three years. Experimenting with teleconference mentoring for Wannabe (Better) Writers. Designing the Tales of the Kingdom Web site.

Is there anything harder to do than to leave home?

Oh, I don’t mean those life-passages that are monumental transitions—going to camp for the summer, leaving for college, moving one’s address to the first rented apartment, following a job across the country, etc.

I mean those more simple departures—getting ready to take off for a family vacation or relocating to the summer home, traveling overseas, or even going to church Sunday after Sunday. Something weird happens in many people’s psyches—nerves get jangled; we think of all the things we haven’t done, and try to get them ALL completed in the week before we travel, or the hours before we are due at worship.

It has taken me many years to learn the art of leaving home. If I’m traveling, either for several days or several months, I really don’t want to come home to a filthy, disorganized house, so I will try to leave it the way I want to find it. Moving four kids, as I often did, through a packing process for a trip will turn any saint into a harridan—and I was never very saintly to begin with. What’s more, most of my travel involved Christian trips. I was traveling on the Christian speaker’s circuit, taking airplane flights because of assignments for religious journals, teaching in small spiritual retreats, or attending board meetings of national not-for-profit religious organizations.

It seems as though my leave-taking should have been a little more filled with equanimity, repose and serenity. In addition, I always forgot something—a crucial hairbrush, toothpaste, a half-slip—which I rarely wear these days, but then, I rarely stand on a platform any more, in a circle of revealing lights in front of hundreds if not thousands of people.

Well—pre-preparation is the key. Instead of rising at 3 a.m. and stuffing clothes into the washer and dryer, and packing my clothes, frantic about not being ready in time, I have one small suitcase with my toiletries always ready to go. I use it as I’m getting dressed the day I travel, and I make sure everything is in it that I need because I’ve checked it out that morning. Now, when I return home, I make a list of what I’ve used up, put the sticky note on the bathroom mirror, and don’t store that suitcase until I’ve purchased the missing items. A Nigerian saying reminds us, “The day on which one starts out is not the time to start one’s preparation.”

For long complicated trips where I will be crossing time and climate zones, dressing formally and informally, I put out a suitcase at least a week before I go, try on clothes I may want to take, make as many of the same color combinations as possible, put out the jewelry and accessories that go with each outfit, try to eliminate two or three outfits that I think I might need but probably won’t. I have one friend, a consummate world-traveler, who only takes two pair of shoes—the shoes she wears to travel and another pair for a change. Her clothes are all one color, and she never packs more than one purse.

I have yet to reach her exemplary model, but I am adhering to my rule about suitcases: If you can’t carry (drag, hoist or haul) it yourself, it’s too big. Get something smaller. One medium-sized suitcase, one smaller bag, one purse and a satchel is the absolute limit (oh well, I might carry a coat on my arm—depending on the temperatures where I am journeying). The airlines with their carry-on fees, of course, are screwing up this hard-won plan, so I am working on discovering alternate suitcase systems.

“The venerable tradition of traveling with one satchel or bag symbolizes the fundamental philosophy of pilgrimage: Simplicity, simplicity, simplicity!” Phil Cousineau writes in The Art of the Pilgrimage: The Seeker’s Guide to Making Travel Sacred. I am not here yet; I would like to be.

Cousineau recommends (as do many other writers) that we consider every journey, every home-leaving, no matter how short (trip to the grocery store, doctor’s appointment, or a daily run) as a potential pilgrimage. One family tells how they take a half-hour to “sit on their suitcases” before departure. This calms them; they remember what they have forgotten. More importantly, they remember what they are journeying for, the purpose of the trip ahead. How many times have I rushed out of my house only to have to return for something crucial I’ve neglected to bring.

Alexander Schmemann, the Russian Orthodox priest, reminds parishioners that Sunday worship begins before they leave their houses. So do the little and big pilgrimages of our lives. The biggest aid in an equitable home-leaving is an inner attitude. Mother Teresa once remarked, “Pray before you do anything.” Journeys, large and small, are made fruitful when we pray ourselves into the way. I pray (when I remember—haste, again, is the enemy) for safety, for caution, for attention, for receptivity. You do not know who you will meet, what you will find, where you will end your journey—even if it is just out the back door (or going to church). Louis Pasteur once commented on this quality of being ready, “In the field of science, chance favors the prepared mind.”

How many times I have whizzed past something intriguing discarded in someone’s else’s garbage, a street festival, or a beckoning road and thought, Oh, I wish I had stopped there.

Leaving home for those journeys where you will certainly return—doing this well is an acquired habit, a learned art. The author Martin Palmer writes, “True pilgrimage changes lives, whether we go halfway around the world, or out to our own backyard.” Let us learn to leave home well.


Karen Mains
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Other projects involving Karen right now are: Working with teams of Christian women to design Retreats of Silence, in both 24-hours and three-days formats, through the aegis of Hungry Souls. Developing hospitality initiatives that train Christian men and women how to use their own homes in caring outreaches through the Open Heart, Open Home ministries. Launching the Global Bag Project, a worldwide effort that markets sustainable cloth shopping bags to provide sustainable incomes for bag-makers in developing nations. Researching the impact of listening groups while overseeing some 240 small groups over the last three years. Experimenting with teleconference mentoring for Wannabe (Better) Writers. Designing the Tales of the Kingdom Web site.

This year has been filled with travel. In October of 2008, we took 16 friends to Paris for a Christian trip with the theme: God Through the Eyes of the Artist (and the Artist in the Eye of God). Because the Mainses’ extended family only gathers together every other year for Christmas, my husband David and I took a trip for the Christmas week to Hot Springs, Arkansas.

In March, we flew to Kenya with a stopover in London so my son-in-law, a video producer, could visit this city he had never seen. The rest of the time in Africa, we worked together filming a microcredit startup, the Global Bag Project, our ministry is launching in which sustainable income is provided for bag-makers from selling reusable shopping bags.

Throw in a trip to Phoenix where our eldest son and three of our grandchildren live, a cruise up the St. Lawrence Seaway with a couple of grandkids ending in a week’s stay on Cape Cod and an American history tour in Boston, and our annual tour to the Shakespeare Festival in Stratford, ON, and we’ve just sliced the tip off the iceberg as far as our travel plans are concerned.

Because I truly believe a person cannot be educated unless he/she travels; because in a globalizing world, we need to understand that there are different ideas, different ways of knowing and processing those ideas, and that travel that creates dialogue, that challenges our preconceptions is not just a pleasure but utterly necessary for world peace, I am amazed to discover that only 20% of Americans have passports (well, 22% now because of the recent Canadian and Mexican border document requirements).
 
Granted, the States are beautiful, our country is large and there is plenty to see here (I would have moved to Cape Cod in an instant had it been feasible), but it is the world pressing in on us that we need to work to understand.

Early on, when our adult offspring were kids growing up under our roof, their father and I decided that if there was a choice between purchasing things and buying experiences (with our meager ministry salaries), we would choose experiences.

So off they went to Peru with their aunt and uncle, who were taking a church youth group to South America. They camped through Spain, took summer college courses in Europe, taught English as a second language in China, and roamed the continents with their parents, whose curiosity for travel has never abated, even though we are aging and really don’t know how long we are going to be able to keep up with all this transiting around the world. Now we travel with the grandchildren: France with one, Scotland with another. I want them to see and not be afraid of the unusual, the unexpected, the exotic or the remarkable. I want their memories to be filled with places and journeys and bumps in the road and detours and all the stories travelers tell to one another—“When we were in Alaca, Spain…”

I have rarely been in a place I didn’t think was beautiful, or the people fascinating, the architecture amazing or the history absorbing. My life, my thinking, my wealth of being have all been enriched by journeys, friends who joined us on Christian trips, conversations with folk who were of other faiths, seeing Israel without importing my Christianity into it; meeting with refugees on five continents and writing about their courage and their despair; being hosted by ambassadors, one Queen and King, relief and development workers, and U.S. Embassy staff. Right now, my nations-visited total is 66. I am at the point of live where I think, So many countries, so little time.

I have discovered that every journey can be a sacred pilgrimage. Phil Cousineau writes in The Art of Pilgrimage: The Seeker’s Guide to Making Travel Sacred, “Common to all pilgrims was the sense of awakened wonder. The long and wearing way carried them through strange lands filled with stranger people, which allowed them to experience
the wider world—probably for the first and only time in their lives. The pilgrim’s constant sense of surprise and astonishment at the ever-changing scenery, weather, and habits of others were as influential as the perils they had to overcome.”

So, I ask you the question I frequently ask of my own adult children: “Is your passport up to date?”


Karen Mains
KM1-16
keywords: Christian vacation

Other projects involving Karen right now are: Working with teams of Christian women to design Retreats of Silence, in both 24-hours and three-days formats, through the aegis of Hungry Souls. Developing hospitality initiatives that train Christian men and women how to use their own homes in caring outreaches through the Open Heart, Open Home ministries. Launching the Global Bag Project, a worldwide effort that markets sustainable cloth shopping bags to provide sustainable incomes for bag-makers in developing nations. Researching the impact of listening groups while overseeing some 240 small groups over the last three years. Experimenting with teleconference mentoring for Wannabe (Better) Writers. Designing the Tales of the Kingdom Web site.

Two of our “Phoenix” grandchildren have been visiting us for the last month. My husband (Papa to that generation) put them on a Southwest Airlines flight two nights ago. First, we traveled for two weeks on a historical tour out east—Plymouth Plantation, Plymouth Rock, Lexington Commons, the Concord bridge, and the Freedom Trail in Boston.

Because their cousins are visiting, all our other grandchildren gather in different sets at different times. Those who are old enough attempt to beat Papa in the traditional miniature-golf tournament.  We have “cooking classes’ for meals. The two then make a circuit of staying for a few days in their cousins’ homes.

The “Phoenix” grandchildren were ready to go home although we all agreed it had been a really great four weeks. My husband, David, said to me this morning, “You must have spent a lot of time cleaning.” I hadn’t—well, I vacuumed the living room and straightened the downstairs study where the children’s suitcases had been stored. The “cleanliness” was simply due to the fact that two bodies (and all their things, cell phones and games and garments) were no longer cluttering our downstairs.

Practicing hospitality with children is an art unto itself.  This short story, quoted from my book Open Heart Open Home, tells how I began to learn that art.


The mud marks traced the path of little feet that had swaggered boldly across the gold carpet, marched around the freshly washed kitchen tile, meandered down the hall, stopped at the bathroom sink—then ended in scattered clods of earth on the porch and down the front steps. It all must have happened in the space of my quick dash to a “borrowing neighbor.”

“Joel! Jo-el Da-vid!” I called! My mother-mind had quickly assessed to which culprit the mud marks belonged: the great house despoiler, Joel David Mains. Two small figures came bounding joyously from the back yard, their snowsuits plastered with mud—my son and his pal Georgie. Georgie was five, but in stature he was eight, causing him to lope and stumble like an adolescent puppy.

“What have you been doing?” I demanded.

“Playing in the backyard,” came the reply.

“No! No! What have you been doing in my house? There’s mud from front to back!” I cried.

Innocently both boys checked their boots. All four were huge clods of clay properly cemented to moldering fall leaves.

“It was Georgie,” maintained the ever-loyal Joel. “It was Joel,” countered Georgie, a little slower on the draw.

Obviously chagrined by a mother who would make so much over such a minor incident, Joel volunteered more information. “Georgie/just/wanted/a/glass/of/water.” Each word was pronounced in a separate, distinct tone, in a manner reserved for communication with the deaf, the infirm, or the half-witted.

“Well,” I replied, also being deliberately distinct, “the next time Georgie wants a glass of water, tell him to/get/it/in/his/own/house.” And having the last word, I dismissed them.

Within minutes, aided by a wet rag and vacuum, I erased the telltale evidences. Glancing at the clock I discovered that two lovely hours remained before the older children arrived home from school. Grabbing my Bible, I crept past the baby’s door listening for the reassuring pattern of his breathing, then on to my very own place—a seat beneath the big window where I could see the sky, blue or gray. A little hurriedly I whispered, “Here I am again, Lord. It’s Karen. What have you to teach me today?”

Opening the Scripture, I continued my synoptic study of the Gospels (comparing each Gospel writer’s version of the same story). Certain vibrant phrases stood out. “If, as my representatives, you give even a cup of cold water to a little child, you will surely be rewarded” (Matthew 10:42, TLB) and “Anyone who takes care of a little child like this is caring for me! … Your care for others is your measure of your greatness” (Luke 9:48, TLB).

Shame flooded me. Georgie just wanted a glass of water. I bowed my heart and prayed, “Father, forgive me for caring more for clean floors and tidy schedules than for two little boys.”

Suddenly I remembered a voice from the past—Linda’s, as she leaned across the high-school lunch table. “Does your mother always sing around the house like that—like I heard her singing when we were talking on the phone yesterday?” When I answered that she did, Linda looked at me and said, “You’re so lucky!”

The world is full of Georgies just wanting a drink of water and of Lindas wishing they had mothers who sang in the kitchen. Many of them are our children’s friends. We really have no choice—we know the one who is the Living Water, this same who creates new songs in our hearts—we have no choice but to open our homes and our lives to those who may leave their telltale marks.

HOSPITALITY BEGINS AT HOME

Why is it always easier to extend the courtesies of hospitality to those outside our immediate families? Husbands, relatives, children, or—strangely enough—their friends often receive short shrift of our kind attention. This point was forcibly brought home to me by my daughter, who cleverly exclaimed before a roomful of guests, “Mommy, why aren’t you this nice to us when people aren’t here?”

Hospitality like charity, in order to be true, has to begin at home. The Lord has humiliated me enough through the comments of my own children that I have been forced to examine my attitudes toward them. Did it count, this gracious open-house business, if I acted like a hellion the hour before company arrived? Wasn’t there something hypocritical about receiving laurels for my church work if my own children’s friends were neglected? Wasn’t there a glaring inconsistency if I really treated my own children differently when outsiders were around? Through the years I had come to an understanding of the use of hospitality as a gift of the Holy Spirit for ministry. But was I really ministering to my own?

A woman can’t be perfect in everything, can she? Yet telltale marks had been imprinted on my own heart by the timely reading of the Scriptures: If you give even a cup of cold water to a little child … anyone who takes care of a little child is caring for God who sent me.


Karen Mains
KM1-15

Other projects involving Karen right now are: Working with teams of Christian women to design Retreats of Silence, in both 24-hours and three-days formats, through the aegis of Hungry Souls. Developing hospitality initiatives that train Christian men and women how to use their own homes in caring outreaches through the Open Heart, Open Home ministries. Launching the Global Bag Project, a worldwide effort that markets sustainable cloth shopping bags to provide sustainable incomes for bag-makers in developing nations. Researching the impact of listening groups while overseeing some 240 small groups over the last three years. Experimenting with teleconference mentoring for Wannabe (Better) Writers. Designing the Tales of the Kingdom Web site.

In a previous post i defined “openhomeaphobia.” I can attest that the following 20 remedies, if applied, are a sure cure.

1.    No matter what, always warmly greet people at the door.

2.    NEVER apologize for the condition of your house.

3.    If you are insecure with hospitality, be as SIMPLE as possible. Do coffee and dessert. Hold a pie party and have the bakers in the group bring the pies. Serve baked potatoes with toppings and a salad. Have a soup-pantry supper; serve from pans off the stove.

4.    Hold a potluck. Have everyone who comes bring something.

5.    Plan a leftovers party. Have guests share their leftovers and add them to yours. Ask, “What’s in the refrigerator? This is what’s in mine.”

6.    ALWAYS accept people’s offer to help.

7.    Never do an in-depth cleaning before people come. Just pick up, light candles, put out flowers. Clean after they go!

8.    Bring people home after church. Let them set the table. Serve pancakes. Serve french toast. Serve waffles.

9.    Extend hospitality as a team. Team with your husband. Team with your housemate. Team with friends. Team with church members.

10.    Pray before you invite anyone to your home. Ask God to provide the guest list. Invite Christ to be the Premier Guest. Prepare as though Christ was coming; treat everyone as though he/she was Christ.

11.    Develop a list of standard conversational questions to rely on. Think about each guest before he/she comes. Try to decide upon one thing you really want to know about him/her.

12.    Include some element of silliness, like holding an evening when everyone brings one funny story to tell. Or, eat the meal backwards, begin with dessert.

13.    Hold a “craving potluck.” Everyone brings something he/she really craves. Do this without preplanning.

14.    Organize a work-together exchange: “We’ll help you with this home project if you’ll help us with this home project.”

15.    When children are invited, build some part of the event around them. Then everyone participates in the activities. Everyone plays musical chairs. Everyone dances (even with the toddler) around the player piano.

16.    Do things for the purpose of healing and welcoming, not to impress. What kind of background music will soothe people after a busy day, a busy week? What is something nice you can put on the table for a centerpiece?

17.     Figure out some follow-up. Most likely, people will not write thank you notes. Can you call and tell them how much you enjoyed their being in your home? Can you write a note?

18.    Make SURE everyone is introduced. Don’t assume people know one another. This can be done informally, but in larger groups it is better to have everyone tell his/her name and one thing about themselves.

19.    Declare the purpose of the evening; “We invited you tonight so you could have an opportunity to get to know one another better.”

20.    It is perfectly appropriate to set time limits. Invite people for dinner from 6:30 to 10:30. You can say (as you stand), “Well this has been a wonderful evening (afternoon, breakfast) but many of you have busy schedules tomorrow, as do we, so we don’t want to go late, but we want to tell you before you leave how much we have loved having you all in our home.”

Try any of these. Let me know about your “openhomeaphobia” cures. Respond in the comments section that follows.


Karen Mains
KM1-13

Other projects involving Karen right now are: Working with teams of Christian women to design Retreats of Silence, in both 24-hours and three-days formats, through the aegis of Hungry Souls. Developing hospitality initiatives that train Christian men and women how to use their own homes in caring outreaches through the Open Heart, Open Home ministries. Launching the Global Bag Project, a worldwide effort that markets sustainable cloth shopping bags to provide sustainable incomes for bag-makers in developing nations. Researching the impact of listening groups while overseeing some 240 small groups over the last three years. Experimenting with teleconference mentoring for Wannabe (Better) Writers. Designing the Tales of the Kingdom Web site.

We have invited some 20 internationals over to celebrate an “American Fourth of July” picnic. The work of all this is being shared with some neighbors, Bruce and Judy Duncan.  I am bringing some of the food. The Duncans are opening their large and welcoming house. My husband is doing the inviting because he is the one who is cultivates friendships with tellers at the bank, with gas station and UPS store managers, and with our Korean cleaning folk. He learns names, countries of birth and creates daily friendships with each one.

Today, as we were picking up senior coffees from McDonald’s, we drove past the pay window. David laughed and said, “Oh, this is my favorite person at McDonald’s—Norita. Norita also works at the other McDonald’s in town.” During this explanation, Norita was occupied with taking another drive-up order and counting out our change. Nevertheless, she warmed immediately and flashed my husband a great big smile.

“Papa, everyone knows you,” said our grandson, Nathanael, who was running errands with his grandfather. They had walked into the bank and someone had called out, “Hi! Dr. Mains!”

“Don’t you know a lot of people like that?” David asked Nathanael. Our grandson said that he didn’t. His grandfather’s response: “Then, Nathanael, you’re not being friendly enough. People are all around us.”

So, Sandip and his family from India; Marie and her son from Mexico; Rahila, who is from Kenya with her husband, an African-American; David and Cecilia from Nigeria—20 of us in all—will be mixing the varied experiences of our birth nationalities to celebrate what is a uniquely American experience—the Fourth of July. We are, apart from the Indian Nations, a country of immigrants.

Through the years these are some of the things we have learned about the first-generation immigrants among us:

•    Amazingly, most of them have never been invited into an American home.

•    They are puzzled by the apparent insincerity of American greetings, such as “How are you?” In most of the countries from which these people come, that inquiry, which is casual to us, instead invites sincere information. “How are you? How is your mother? How is your father? Are your children doing well?” People stop and talk—they don’t hurry by each other, driven by intractable daily schedules.

•    Many Americans say, “We’ll have to get together sometime—” but never do. Hopes for social connection are raised but never met.

•    Meals for internationals are considered “events” with lots of food spread on large tables, hours spent with each other, a community of people invited who laugh, tell stories, dialogue and specialize in enjoying the occasion. Many internationals are puzzled, if not offended, by the American custom of eating and running.

The book of Romans, written when hospitality was a sacred act, understood to be so across most cultures at the time,  says this: “Welcome one another, therefore, just as Christ has welcomed you for the glory of God.” Romans 15:7, RSV.

It is interesting to me that in the New International Version, this is also translated, “Accept one another, then just as Christ accepted you, in order to bring praise to God.” In the New King James Version, the same verse reads, “Therefore, receive one another, just as Christ also received us, to the glory of God.”

Welcome, accept, receive—these are the essential attitudes we must have if we are to practice Christian hospitality.

Henri Nouwen writes in Reaching Out, “Hospitality, therefore, means primarily the creation of a free space where the stranger can enter and become friend instead of enemy. Hospitality is not to change people, but to offer them space where change can take place. … The paradox of hospitality is that it wants to create emptiness, not a fearful emptiness, but a friendly emptiness where strangers can enter and discover themselves as created free, free to sing their own songs, speak their own languages, dance their own dances, free also to leave and follow their own vocations. Hospitality is not a subtle invitation to adopt the life style of the host, but the gift of a chance for the guest to find his own.” What an appropriate prescription for extending hospitality to internationals.

So. Sandip, Mari, Rahila, Cecelia and David (and their families) are joining with the Mainses and the Duncans to share a quintessential American celebration—an Independence Day backyard picnic. This also seems to me to be a quintessential act of hospitality in which welcome, acceptance and reception are being extended to people of different nations. What a joyful event to look forward to!

Happy Fourth of July!


Karen Mains
KM1-14

Other projects involving Karen right now are: Working with teams of Christian women to design Retreats of Silence, in both 24-hours and three-days formats, through the aegis of Hungry Souls. Developing hospitality initiatives that train Christian men and women how to use their own homes in caring outreaches through the Open Heart, Open Home ministries. Launching the Global Bag Project, a worldwide effort that markets sustainable cloth shopping bags to provide sustainable incomes for bag-makers in developing nations. Researching the impact of listening groups while overseeing some 240 small groups over the last three years. Experimenting with teleconference mentoring for Wannabe (Better) Writers. Designing the Tales of the Kingdom Web site.

What is “Openhomeaphobia”?

Openhomeaphobia is the condition that keeps us from practicing Scriptural hospitality.

Here is the definition:

open-home-a-pho-bic (op-n-hom-a-fo-bik) Lat. phobicus; Gk. phobikos 1. Someone terrified to open his or her home to guests. 2. Someone filled with anxiety due to the overwhelming feelings that his or her home is not good enough for company, the rooms not large enough, the food not tasty enough. 3. Someone who panics at the thought of fitting hospitality into a schedule jammed with deadlines, timelines, and bottom lines.  Symptoms include: gagging at the word guest; uncontrollable urges to hide when the doorbell rings; sweats when the church bulletin pleads for people to include internationals for holiday meals.

The cure for openhomeaphobia is liberal and continual doses of the following mendicant. It’s from Romans 12:10-13—Be devoted to one another in brotherly love. Honor one another above yourselves. Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving the Lord. Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer. Share with God’s people who are in need. Practice hospitality.

You will know you are cured when you invite your neighbor over for a cup of coffee, hold a birthday party for a friend, throw a get-acquainted dinner for newcomers at church. If any residual symptoms develop, take a follow-up dose of 1 Peter 4:9. Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers a multitude of sins. Offer hospitality to one another without grumbling.

Karen Mains


Other projects involving Karen right now are: Working with teams of Christian women to design Retreats of Silence, in both 24-hours and three-days formats, through the aegis of Hungry Souls. Developing hospitality initiatives that train Christian men and women how to use their own homes in caring outreaches through the Open Heart, Open Home ministries. Launching the Global Bag Project, a worldwide effort that markets sustainable cloth shopping bags to provide sustainable incomes for bag-makers in developing nations. Researching the impact of listening groups while overseeing some 240 small groups over the last three years. Experimenting with teleconference mentoring for Wannabe (Better) Writers. Designing the Tales of the Kingdom Web site.

All that education may have gone to Christian women’s heads—and a good thing, too, but sometimes the lore that usually got passed along, as far as hospitality goes, has not gone to the kitchen. Many, who received their college degrees, their postgraduate degrees and their PhD’s, never learned how to get a company meal from the store to the table. Consequently, one of the great socializing tools of all time—inviting people into our home for an event that is not rushed, that allows us to savor good food and good conversation—is in danger of extinction!

Throughout the years of my life, I picked up training as a focus-group moderator and because hospitality is an important tool to me and because I think it is an essential (repeat, essential) spiritual practice, Mainstay Ministries ran about 16 focus groups attempting to determine why this was a languishing, if not dying, art in our country, in most regions, in our neighborhoods, in our churches, and in our families.

Here are the reasons, and most of our groups were composed of Christian women:

l.    Too busy. (This is the most frequently given excuse.)

2.    I don’t have enough energy.

3.    It’s expensive.

4.    I don’t know how to ___________ (set a table, prepare a company meal, make conversation, etc).

5.    I don’t know whom to invite.

6.    My house is too messy.

7.    It’s too much work!

8.    My mother was always uptight before company, and that gave me a bad taste for entertaining.

9.    With work (or school, single-parenting, etc.), I simply can’t manage any more.

10.    People just don’t invite folks over; I don’t even know my neighbors.

11.    I’d love to extend hospitality, but my spouse (or housemate or roommate) thinks a home should be a refuge from people.

12.    We don’t have enough room (or the right dishes, enough place settings, decent furniture, etc).

All good excuses, to be sure, but tragic in that one of the greatest cures for the human pandemic of spiritual homesickness—inviting people into our homes—is not being applied. Nothing helps us to get to know another human better than being welcomed into a home, sitting down at the table, eating well-prepared food, and sharing the laughter, stories, good ideas and learning that comes from unhurried conversation. Believe me, texting is not a substitute.

Perhaps without knowing it, we are all longing for a place at the table, for a home where we are safe and wanted. Jean Fleming writes of this beautifully in her book The Homesick Heart: “That I am homesick for a home I’ve never seen would be preposterous if I had no glimpse, no foretaste, of that home. The home I seek is not here, yet in the hearth fire and the freshly made bed I feel pangs of homesickness for a home beyond my experience. I can’t describe this home, but the seeds of recognition are planted within me.”

Perhaps one of the most exquisite portrayals of spiritual homesickness being assuaged is in the film Babette’s Feast. Here a shriveled and wizened little remnant of religious followers, turning critical and legalistic and aging ungracefully, are fed a celebration meal prepared by a master chef. No cost has been spared. The dishes and the graciousness are lavish. An outsider comes as guest to the table and he interprets—the names of the dishes, the wonders of the wine, the renown of the cook. Magic—or perhaps one might call it a miracle—happens. The old people are warmed in their creaking bodies. They lean across the table in love toward one another. They actually enjoy the beautifully-prepared food. Laughter curls around the elegant table settings. They leave the evening light-hearted, stepping brightly onto the cold stone pavements on this winter’s evening. Their arthritis and rheumatisms are forgotten. In the glimmering moonlight, they join hands and dance around the town well. It is a lovely picture, this cinematic preamble to homesickness with all its displacements assuaged.

“Like Adam we have all lost Paradise: and yet we carry around inside us in the form of a longing for, almost a memory of, a blessedness that is no more, or the dream of a blessedness that may someday be again.” —Frederich Buechner in The Magnificent Defeat

A tiny touch of Paradise visits each hospitable occasion in any home, wealthy or poor, where welcome is extended. I have known it over and over—our yearning for a home that is beyond this physical existence is satisfied for brief and shining moments. And whereas my guests often leave warmed, well-fed, happy, and with lighter hearts and tapping feet, it is I, the hostess, who is most blessed. Why don’t we do this more? I always ask whenever a guest leaves my door. It is wonderful to be connected in a way that is beyond the ordinary discussion groups, task forces, and study circles.

The excuses above are good excuses. But not good enough. They are the same as saying, “I’m too busy” or “It’s too much work” or “I don’t know how” to reach out and receive a check for $10,000. The practice of hospitality is so bountiful in its gifts, so filled with reminders of what Paradise was and what it will be, that we don’t dare let it grow rusty. Poverty—social poverty, inter-relational poverty—are always the results of a closed door and rusted hinges.

Invite a friend to dinner in your home. Invite several friends. See if something paradisal doesn’t happen. See if your spiritual homesickness isn’t assuaged.

Karen Mains


Other projects involving Karen right now are: Working with teams of Christian women to design Retreats of Silence, in both 24-hours and three-days formats, through the aegis of Hungry Souls. Developing hospitality initiatives that train Christian men and women how to use their own homes in caring outreaches through the Open Heart, Open Home ministries. Launching the Global Bag Project, a worldwide effort that markets sustainable cloth shopping bags to provide sustainable incomes for bag-makers in developing nations. Researching the impact of listening groups while overseeing some 240 small groups over the last three years. Experimenting with teleconference mentoring for Wannabe (Better) Writers. Designing the Tales of the Kingdom Web site.

This is a confession. Through much of my life I’ve been plunked into groups of Christian women, either as a speaker or a writer, and basically because I’m a closet eccentric, I really haven’t fit well with the do-gooding, behavior-monitoring, appearance-managing parameters conservative Christianity often imposes upon its feminine members.

However, renegade types of women often sniff me out. One friend once said to me, “You’re the most normal schizoid I’ve ever met!” Another, who had been homeless because she defied certain codes of the Southern society into which she married, and who subsisted on medications to keep her from reentering the psychiatric wards said to me, “Outwardly, you look like you’ve got it all pulled together, but inwardly you’re just like me. Right?”

She was right. She liked me because the first time my pastor husband and I brought her home for Sunday dinner and I asked when she was expecting her obviously soon-to-be-born baby, she said, “Well, the next time I commit adultery I’m going to write down the date.” I laughed a hearty belly-full Karen Mains laugh. The man she’d committed adultery with was a black man; at that time, in the late ‘60s, that radical act had precipitated her flight to exile in the North as well as a soon-to-be-anticipated divorce.

Christian women, particularly those of my age set, often bored me—especially when young mothers waxed long on poop tales of their toddlers or bloody evacuation stories of birthing. Once I spoke at a Christian college for faculty wives, and one of them took me aside and thanked me for choosing a topic that was “intelligent.” The subject of many faculty wives’ teas (at least in this college) had been the proprieties of tea-making and tea-serving, and being supportive helpmates to husbands—oh well, some of you may remember and catch the gist and understand why this gal was so grateful for a little intelligence dropped into a topic.

However, times, they are a-changing. I was born in 1943. World War II ended in 1945. The feminist movement that I remember, the Civil Rights Movement that I almost missed, free love—which still appalls me—the Vietnam War protests, which demonstrated to me the power of the people, and the counterculture revolution all swelled together in the 1960s and ‘70s—during my late teens and my early twenties. I was profoundly formed by all the dialogues these movements incited, and I am old enough to be aware of what a rare and remarkable time it is when a whole culture is forced into this kind of dialectic. It is remarkable because we begin to think, one way or another, but thoughts and counterarguments, and heated discussions force our brain neurons to fire.

Whatever has happened since those days—and I’m willing to accept that the biggest changes may be in my attitudes—but the Christian women I’m working with these days are nothing like those World War II babies who became gals who used to drive me to frustration. No, the female renegades are out of the closet! They’re an educated, thoughtful, savvy, well-read, confident, creative, risk-taking, boundary-pushing group of gals. If they had personal inner issues, they headed into counseling. If they wanted to grow spiritually, they found a spiritual director. They work on their marriages, if they are married; and if they are single, they travel the world.

I suppose not all conservative Christian women are like this but the ones I know are! Perhaps it’s a matter of like attracting like. For some reason, there is not a boring one in the bunch of gals I know. Quite amazing. My daughter is just finishing up her executive life-coaching training (two years of work and lots of money)—but my learning has been running a marathon to keep up with her learning. My daughter-in-laws also keep me stretching. I’ve had the privilege of sitting in one way or another—as an observer or a facilitator or sometimes as a participant—in some 250 Listening Groups. Here, three or four of us meet for 2.5 hours each month, under the discipline of a particular listening architecture, and we tell each other about our lives. We meet for seven to eight months. I have been party to the personal joys and agonies and struggles and aspirations of Christian women in a way I’ve never know before.

I sit in awe. I’m overwhelmed by the beauty of the human capacity. I am glad, finally, to be part of this sisterhood.

What will happen when the renegades of the world unite?

Karen Mains


Other projects involving Karen right now are: Working with teams of Christian women to design Retreats of Silence, in both 24-hours and three-days formats, through the aegis of Hungry Souls. Developing hospitality initiatives that train Christian men and women how to use their own homes in caring outreaches through the Open Heart, Open Home ministries. Launching the Global Bag Project, a worldwide effort that markets sustainable cloth shopping bags to provide sustainable incomes for bag-makers in developing nations. Researching the impact of listening groups while overseeing some 240 small groups over the last three years. Experimenting with teleconference mentoring for Wannabe (Better) Writers. Designing the Tales of the Kingdom Web site.

“Not all breads are created equal,” states a header from a Mayo Clinic newsletter. “Breads vary in their nutritional value.” Not that we don’t know this; but sometimes a low price or a specialty bakery item or a sweet tooth tempts us to wander from the truth.

Whole-wheat bread is the best. Made from whole-wheat flour, it is a good source of fiber that contains vitamins, minerals and phytonutrients. Wheat bread has the next-highest nutritional value, but it is enriched bread where some whole-wheat flour has been added, and contains smaller amounts of fiber and phytonutrients. White bread is enriched flour, and the nutrients it contains are additives.

Eating whole-grain breads or cereals may reduce the risk of colon cancer and other forms of cancer, lower cholesterol, decrease the chance of cardiovascular disease and diabetes and help relieve some menopausal symptoms.

It’s interesting, isn’t it, how Americans, the most overfed nation on Earth, are often still hungry after eating huge meals and after snacking in between meals. Scientists tell us this is because the body is not ingesting foods from which it can draw the nutrition it requires. Surprise! Junk food really is junk food. Eating food with fiber helps fill the stomach and gives people the needed bulk to keep the digestive system running smoothly.

In order to be healthy, we need to (among other things) learn to eat whole-wheat bread and buy cereals that are made from the whole grain. Experts recommend six to 11 servings of grain a day. One slice of whole-grain bread counts as one grain serving.

Christ said to His followers, “I am the bread of life. No one who comes after me will ever be hungry again” (John 6:35). This often is the spiritual “whole-wheat” bread that our famished souls lack. Nothing satisfies like the bread from heaven.

May I ask:  Exactly how are you feeding on Jesus?

Five years ago, I was designing teaching material for 160 young women in India who were preparing themselves for ministry. I asked myself, What can I give to them that will feed their eager spirits? Then one morning I turned to the Gospel of Luke and began to read again about the life of Christ. There was healthy oat, wheat, rye and multigrain flour for the soul indeed.

How are you feeding on the Bread of Life? Could you find time to read from one of the Gospels, one chapter each sitting? Chew your food slowly. Take notes. Savor the taste.

Perhaps you are a hungry soul because you have been snacking too much on white bread.

Your Christian Blogger,
Karen Mains

Other projects involving Karen right now are: Working with teams of Christian women to design Retreats of Silence, in both 24-hours and three-days formats, through the aegis of Hungry Souls. Developing hospitality initiatives that train Christian men and women how to use their own homes in caring outreaches through the Open Heart, Open Home ministries. Launching the Global Bag Project, a worldwide effort that markets sustainable cloth shopping bags to provide sustainable incomes for bag-makers in developing nations. Researching the impact of listening groups while overseeing some 240 small groups over the last three years. Experimenting with teleconference mentoring for wannabe (…better) writers. Designing the Tales of the Kingdom Web site.

One of the great malnutrition killers is the disease kwashiorkor. Infants and children who suffer from this condition have been starving for a long time. Kwashiorkor is basically a protein deficiency, though it can also be caused by a deficiency of one of several types of nutrients.

Adults can get by on a heavy starch diet for a while, but children must have protein for their growing bodies. A starving child has used up all the reserves of fat and muscle—the body actually cannibalizes itself for the sake of life. You’ve seen the news pictures and the appeal letters from groups that aid children in peril—spindly legs, bloated belly, dusty skin, black hair bleaching reddish. A starving child at this stage is beyond tears; it is waiting for death.

Dr. Paul Brand writes about being at the bedside of children in this near-terminal condition. He tells how they actually refuse food, turning their heads away from a spoon or glass of milk. In a hospital, the hunger patient can be given intravenous feedings, or a persistent helper can sit by the bedside dosing the child with minuscule portions until the swallowing reflex takes over. Dr Brand writes, “The reward comes when, almost suddenly, the child looks at you, and opens his own mouth for food. Appetite is coming back! A sense of hunger is awakening … life will return.”

Perhaps you are suffering from a case of spiritual kwashiorkor. It has been so long since any real food reached your soul that you are starving for nutrients.

The purpose of my Hungry Souls ministry is to pray for an awakening of your hunger. Soulish Food is a feeding program in the form of a biweekly e-newsletter. Bit by bit, I hold the morsel to your lips. Over time, spiritual mentors can become experts at the “drip method.” They know the Holy Spirit and are confident He can restore our appetite.

Don’t struggle. Don’t try to whip yourself into a feeding frenzy. Just rest. Just rest.

Hear these words whispered into your weariness (you can hardly lift your head): “Taste—just taste—of the goodness of the Lord.”

“Some wandered in desert wastelands. … They were hungry and thirsty, and their lives ebbed away. Then they cried out to the lord in their trouble, and he delivered them from their distress. … Let them give thanks to the Lord for his unfailing love and his wonderful deeds to men, for he satisfies the thirsty and fills the hungry with good things.”
(Psalm 107:4-9)

My prayer is that you will be satisfied, little one, that you will be able to sip, then swallow, then chew again. But for now, be still. Someone else is tending to the feeding.

Your Christian Blogger,
Karen Mains

Other projects involving Karen right now are: Working with teams of Christian women to design Retreats of Silence, in both 24-hours and three-days formats, through the aegis of Hungry Souls. Developing hospitality initiatives that train Christian men and women how to use their own homes in caring outreaches through the Open Heart, Open Home ministries. Launching the Global Bag Project, a worldwide effort that markets sustainable cloth shopping bags to provide sustainable incomes for bag-makers in developing nations. Researching the impact of listening groups while overseeing some 240 small groups over the last three years. Experimenting with teleconference mentoring for wannabe (…better) writers. Designing the Tales of the Kingdom Web site.

“Hunger is a wonderful thing … it gives us life. It’s the body built-in alarm that it’s time to eat. Hunger is what makes eating a pleasure. Without it, we could easily forget to eat; we might even starve to death.”
Dr. Paul Brand, The Forever Feast


When I was a young woman, someone remarked to me that no real spiritual growth could occur without a hunger for God. At that time, in my early thirties, I realized I wasn’t hungry—not for God, at any rate. And I was intellectually honest enough to know that this lack of desire, this nonchalant Christianity minus longing, put my soul in a precarious place.

So I began to pray, “Lord, give me hunger—”

Now at 67 years of age, I agree with that anonymous adviser from my past: Spiritual growth boils down to discovering a hunger so intense it propels us past our human ennui. We must become like infants howling for the breast. That kind of hunger is overwhelming. So must be the hunger that we seek, a starvation for God.

The American church suffers from information overload. So many spiritual resources are available to us, it’s like forced feedings. My father once tried to spoon oatmeal down me at the breakfast table. I did what any child would do: I resorted to a strategic defense. I vomited up the oatmeal.

We of the Western church are in a regurgitation mode, and none of the nutrients are reaching our souls. The big idea behind my ministry, Hungry Souls, is to take one growth emphasis, and slowly, slowly, over the course of a whole year, walk around it, touch it gingerly, kick it with a toe, push it, lean against it, decide it is safe, nestle into it and finally become hidden by it.

Growth, applied understanding, doesn’t happen overnight. It must be tenderly nourished. Truth must be heard over and over again. It must be tasted, tested, rolled on the tongue, chewed, then swallowed. And then it must be applied—absorbed into the blood.

We have to learn what it is to be spiritually hungry—really hungry. We have to challenge ourselves to consider for what we are truly starving. We have to shake ourselves and ask: Am I really hungry for God? Or am I longing for some replacement for God? Then we need to pray to develop an authentic craving, a soul-addiction that cannot be satisfied by any sugar substitutes. We have to become replete with soul fatness, to learn how to suck out the marrow of God’s nutrients.

And we must find companions to make their way with us to that feast. Intriguingly, the word companion comes from the Latin cum, meaning “with,” and panis, meaning “bread.” We want to be with companions at this Table. And we want to do more. We want to become hungry ourselves again; we want to dine; we want to rest satisfied, having fed richly at His Royal Spread.

Your Christian Blogger,
Karen Mains

“Lord, give me a hunger for yourself that cannot be sated by any other human thing.”
Thomas Merton

Other projects involving Karen right now are: Working with teams of Christian women to design Retreats of Silence, in both 24-hours and three-days formats, through the aegis of Hungry Souls. Developing hospitality initiatives that train Christian men and women how to use their own homes in caring outreaches through the Open Heart, Open Home ministries. Launching the Global Bag Project, a worldwide effort that markets sustainable cloth shopping bags to provide sustainable incomes for bag-makers in developing nations. Researching the impact of listening groups while overseeing some 240 small groups over the last three years. Experimenting with teleconference mentoring for wannabe (…better) writers. Designing the Tales of the Kingdom Web site.