At The Table

In Spokane people called me the Welcome Wagon, the person people looked to for help settling into a new life in a new city. I reveled in the role and saw it as a sort of mini-ministry.

I could rattle off my list of favorite restaurants (Gordy's, Clover and Twigs, for those of you keeping score at home), family activities and outings, and useless and slightly interesting trivia.

For example, did you know that Bing Crosby's boyhood home, now the Gonzaga Alumni Center, had for the longest time a hole in the window where he had shot a bb through the glass? Recent beautification efforts have done away with the fabled remnants of a time gone by. And did you know that the crooner's Oscar for "Going My Way" is a part of GU's holdings? Pulling from my grab-bag of conversation fillers was all in a day's work as the head of campus visits and ambassador advisor at GU. Even after I left GU for the community colleges, I continued to acquire more Spokane tidbits to bolster my pride of the city called home by nearly 200,000 residents.  

Strange, not-quite-A-list celebrities like actor Craig T. Nelson and Broadway star Cheyenne Jackson hail from the Lilac City. Okay, Newport for the second one, but you get the idea. If there's an obscure tidbit that will spice up an exchange with a newcomer or a passerby, I had it at the ready. All in the name of making connections with people who just hit town for a new job or were suspended in place and time, sometimes not of their own volition. If someone started a job with our colleges, I made sure to host a dinner so a person could meet people like themselves. It was my quest to help them answer their own unspoken question, "Is it safe to be me here?" I mentally filled in the blanks for others without thinking that someday I would be the one asking the question.

It wasn't until I was on the receiving end of a connector's gifts that I realized what a powerful act of service it is to gather people at the table for the first time. Seven days into our new life in Longview, a colleague organized a dinner out with four couples, including my husband Rick and me. After a long, intense first week on the job spent drinking from the proverbial fire hose, I pushed myself past the impulse to collapse on the couch and changed for dinner. I had no names or faces to look for, just instructions to go to the Bistro (http://www.thebistrobuzz.com/) at 6:45 with reservations under the name of Ted.

Within a matter of minutes of being seated and exchanging names, we found commonalities in where we went to school, our fears and hopes for our children, our long-standing optimistic fatalism about the Cougs and the desire to make this town a better place.

Wine, beer and conversation flowed freely. I refrained (never again!) from busting out my iPhone to reflexively take pictures of my food as I am so wont to do at new eateries, especially if they are to my liking. And this one was. The osso bucco was a work of art, as was the the melodic manner in which the waitress sold the dish as a special, nay life-changing opportunity, not to be missed. The plating was nearly as dramatic as the polished promise of the chef's offerings. For me this was a tableau made in heaven. I went with the mussels and clams in a butter wine broth, but the men who fell under the spell of the menu whisperer were not disappointed. The gusto with which they dove in added to the vibrance of the evening. A toast was offered by eldest and most gregarious, and we felt a sense of welcome wash over us.

The Greek word for hospitality, xenophilia, literally means "love of strangers". I often strive to be the host and extend hospitality to others. The giving has been easy. The receiving, on the other hand, is where the opportunity for true spiritual practice lies for me. To receive graciously the gifts of another who is expressing a love of strangers in the hopes of rendering them no longer strangers in their midst, has been my challenge.

Until I could do so with unqualified gratitude and humility, however, I couldn't lay claim to have mastered the virtue of hospitality. On this Muscato and Malbec marinated evening, I came closer than ever before.