In which I plan the menu and shop for my largest dinner party ever.

As the cashier was sliding my items across her scanner, I knew this was going to be my highest grocery store purchase ever. I even wondered if Mastercard would deny the sale—or at least call my husband to ask if I was going through some kind of personal crises. The bill indeed exceeded all previous purchases. Given that we’ll be feeding 12 (Saturday), 25 (Sunday), and then 100 people (for the reception), this was no surprise.

I’m no foodie (too lazy) but I do care how we feed those who sit with us at the table. I want the space cleaned off, flattering lighting (especially as I age), and healthy, well prepared food.

Make no mistake—hospitality is so much more than what gets put on a plate. It’s about welcoming others into our space. About listening. About offering compassion and empathy when needed or celebrating whenever possible.

During the course of our marriage, my husband and I have company at least twice a month. Sometimes it’s an impromptu gathering with close friends. Sometimes we invite folks we’ve recently met. When we lived in the city, we had international students live with us for eight years. That’s a lot of meals. A lot of pots and pans washed. A lot great conversations.

God seems to place a high value on hospitality. Throughout the Scripture, we find numerous stories of men and women breaking bread and sharing wine, sometimes violating social norms, but also tearing down walls and becoming better neighbors in the process. When we’re elbow to elbow, passing the chicken and rice, it’s much more difficult to find fault with one another. C. Christopher Smith and John Pattison, authors of Slow Church write, “The common meal, however often we celebrate it, forces us to pull our convictions down from the clouds of abstraction and work them out together in our very specific context.”

Our very specific context is the wedding of two remarkable, young people. Starting on Friday, Kate’s family will arrive and then gradually, increasing numbers of folks will converge on our home. Our hope is that everyone will feel welcomed and everyone will be fed—relationally, spiritually and carnally.

Field notes: The mosquitoes seem diminished in the yard but take one step off the grass and they swarm. Perhaps I should have thought to spray ten to fifteen feet into the bushes?