I recently was able to spend a week in Florida. I suffer from Seasonal Affective Disorder so a boost of warmth, sunshine and ocean air helps me make it through these dreary Indiana winters. My long, renewing walks on Pompano Beach yielded some beautiful spiritual insights…
I did a lot of shell collecting. The shells along Pompano Beach are amazing. I grew up in Pennsylvania and spent time on the Jersey shore on vacation. It was rare to find a stunning seashell. But at Pompano, they are abundant.
My first morning out, I noticed a woman whose pace seemed close to my own… mostly impressive because she was clearly quite elderly. She had a Ziploc bag in her hand. I was mostly focused on my shells, mostly looking down to spot beauty and keep an eye out for jellyfish! Looking up, the elderly woman was approaching me with bag in hand. In English still laced with a strong accent, she offered me her bag of shells. She was super excited about it. She pointed out some of the more beautiful ones. She told me about the artwork she does with shells, some of the things she makes, where to buy the best glue for gluing shells. I thanked her. She asked me where I was from… Thankfully, because I was curious to learn where she was from. “Russia,” she said. She had immigrated 30 years ago. She’s now 80. I asked her what part of Russia she’d lived in – Moscow. Honestly, she didn’t seem super excited to discuss her life in Russia, so I didn’t push the topic. We continued our own walks. Later, she doubled back to offer me more shells she’d collected.
Perhaps it is because Washington has become such a nasty, partisan place in recent years and xenophobia seems to be skyrocketing…. But, like my many experiences on my sabbatical journeys last spring, I was so struck by such kindness and generosity from a complete stranger. She was observant enough to notice something that brought me – a complete stranger – delight: collecting shells. And she wanted to be a part of it. She wanted to contribute to my joy… The joy of a complete stranger. In a certain sense, she showed me hospitality.
I’ve thought a lot about hospitality in recent years (in part because of my time spent with the sisters at Benedict Inn in Beech Grove). We tend to define the word in such a narrow way. But the foundation of hospitality is an opening of our hearts to others. True hospitality springs from the desire to contribute to another – to add to their joy, their peace, their comfort, their wholeness.
As I rush through my days, can I slow down enough, as that elderly Russian woman did, to notice what it is that brings others joy – even complete strangers – and to find ways to contribute to their joy, their peace, their comfort, their wholeness? Certainly, it is worth the effort.
[Listen to my recent sermon podcasts at http://www.trinitylafayette.org/sermons and check out my new book, Companions on the Journey: Foundational Spiritual Practices at https://wipfandstock.com/companions-on-the-journey.html or view links on my home page]