So...I know that hospitality is about making people feel loved and welcomed. It is sharing what you have.
But, what if hospitality looks like sharing your sons' bedroom/bunk bed with the preacher for a week? And said bedroom has footprints on the ceiling, winter mildew (and other things) on the windows, and enough legos to build the Empire State Building (full scale version)?
Well, then it is time to whip that bedroom into shape before the preacher comes.
It's really not about making an impression. It's about keeping him alive.
The boys are generally in charge of their own room upkeep. I insist that they vacuum and dust it once a week. But, that tends to be a rather cursory operation. About every three months I go a bit ape on them, and I make sure everything is picked up and vacuumed and dusted. Usually one kitchen garbage bag makes it to the dumpster. And another kitchen garbage bag makes it to Goodwill. And the cycle begins again.
Keepin' it real, folks.
I am such a good mom that I as I was surveying the catastrophe that constitutes the boys' room, I actually threatened that they were going to use their allowance to buy ceiling paint if I didn't have a can in the basement. Because, what in the world motivates a person to put their feet on the ceiling? I don't know! I've never put my feet on the ceiling of my bedroom.
All that greasy, dirty, foot-ness. Yuck.
All I can say is, by Friday, this room will not remotely resemble it's former inglorious state.
Clean sheets, clean windows, freshly painted ceiling. Well dusted and vacuumed. Legos thinned and picked up and put in a newer, larger and flatter, more useful bin. Room aired. Bags to the dumpster. Bags to the Goodwill. The room, and it's inhabitants, aren't going to know what hit them.
(Btw, I also have friends staying in my bedroom this weekend. But, because I actually regularly clean my bedroom, all I have to do is change the sheets. Like I said before-there's no footprints on my ceiling.)
Forgive me if I don't get around to writing again this week....