NILDA’S HOSPITALITY

About six years ago we moved to a new neighborhood. Since arriving, we’ve tried to be friendly with our neighbors and show kindness. We greet them with a smile, ask how they are, and several times we prepared pizza and delivered it to them as a sign of friendship. We thought we were doing well in showing our neighbors we care. But then we met Nilda.

Nilda’s two adult grandchildren are both disabled with a genetic degenerative disease. In order to help with their care, she decided to move in with her daughter’s family. Caring for physically disabled people creates a lot of work and stress, and no one would blame this family for focusing on their own problems and challenges.

But not so with Nilda. She is the most hospitable person I have ever known, and there always seem to be at least one, if not two, sets of visitors at their home. As previous visitors get up and start leaving, new visitors enter the house—there is a constant flow of people.

Drinks and cakes are always handy, or snacks and simple dishes are prepared in minutes. In spite of the challenges and difficulties this family is facing, there’s a joyful and optimistic atmosphere.

Even our dog, who occasionally visits her with us, doesn’t leave without a bowl of water and a special dog treat or two. In fact, our dog recognizes Nilda at a distance and can’t wait to see what yumminess she has on hand this time. Nilda pays attention to the smallest details about her visitors.

I don’t know if a few paragraphs can do justice to the joy, kindness, loving concern, help, and hospitality that she bestows on others, but I was reminded of Nilda when I read the following quote:

Our Lord … tells us that the little things we do—feeding the hungry, giving drink to the thirsty, showing hospitality to the stranger, visiting the sick, and the other nameless ministries of love of which we take no account—if done in the right spirit, are accepted as though they had been actually done to Christ himself! …

The best thing we can do with our love is not to watch for a chance to perform some one fine act that will shine before the world—but to fill all the days and hours with little kindnesses which will make countless hearts nobler, stronger, and happier.— J. R. Miller

Do not forget to show hospitality to strangers, for by so doing some people have shown hospitality to angels without knowing it.

— Hebrews 13:2 NIV Share with the Lord’s people who are in need. Practice hospitality.

— Romans 12:13 NIV

Irena Žabičková is a full-time volunteer for Per un mondo migliore1 in Croatia and Italy.

I read once that a good father prepares us for our relationship with our heavenly Father, God.

My father may not realize it, but one thing that shaped my life was a conversation he and I had sitting on a hill overlooking our home the summer I was 18. He probably doesn’t even remember it—so simple and yet so typical of him and his wise and loving way of guiding me without overtly giving advice.

We talked about everything that day, and I found myself telling him about a boyfriend, the problems we’d encountered, and what our friendship might lead to. I don’t remember how I explained it all, but I do remember how awkward I felt. After I’d gotten it all out, I looked at him and asked plaintively, “What do I do now, Daddy? Tell me what to do.”

“That is a tough decision,” he began, “but you’re 18. You’re an adult now. I’m not going to tell you what to do, because you already know what you should do.”

I looked at him blankly. No, I wasn’t an adult yet—or at least I didn’t feel like one. I was only 18, and I didn’t have a clue. Wait a minute—yes, I did. In that situation I knew exactly what I should do. Not that I wanted to do it, but I knew. And I ended up doing the right thing largely because Dad believed that I would, that I had the capacity to do it.

Not every decision that I’ve made from that point on has been the right one, but that conversation helped me onto the path to independence and got me believing that I could succeed at life. Knowing that someone believed in me helped me later when even harder decisions came my way.

Dad has always made it clear that he not only believes in me, but he loves me unconditionally. No matter what choices I make, I will always be his daughter and will always have his love. Of all the gifts I have ever received from him, I am most grateful for that assurance.

It took me a while, but eventually I realized that my father’s love and trust mirrors God’s.

God teaches us to walk and then lets us run on our own, believing we can succeed but always being there for us when we fall or need help. “You are a special person,” He tells us, “who can do something wonderful for Me and others.” And when we mess up, as we often do, He whispers, “Whatever you do, I will always love you,” and He helps us do better.

Thanks, Dad, for the gift of God’s love in flesh and bones!