Catholic at Home: Hospitality Without the Hurry

I love hosting. Really, I do. But if you ask my kids, they’ll tell you that in the days leading up to a gathering, I make everyone just a little bit nuts. I can’t help getting carried away with the prep— cleaning, cooking, decorating, and fussing over things that probably don’t matter as much as I think they do.

My family rolls their eyes and says, “You’re doing too much.” And they may be right. By the time people start showing up, I’ve sometimes worn myself out before the party even begins.

I don’t think I’m alone in this. With October here and the holidays right around the corner, plenty of us are already bracing for the cleaning lists, grocery runs, and endless little details that sneak into “getting ready.” Somewhere along the way, we’ve started believing that hospitality is about the perfect table, the perfectly staged home, and the perfectly timed meal.

But when I think back to the get-togethers that really mattered, the ones people still talk about, it’s never the perfectly baked rolls or the spotless living room they remember. It’s the laughter. It’s the stories told late into the evening. It’s the feeling of being welcomed and cared for.

In fact, during one big Thanksgiving dinner we hosted, it rained for the annual Turkey Bowl, the turkey was done later than expected, and I burned the rolls. Despite my best planning, things went sideways. I was frustrated in the moment, but later one of my sisters said, “That was one of my favorite nights at your house. We had such a good time.”

It hit me: all that mattered was the love that they felt.

Real hospitality is more about presence than perfection. Our Catholic faith has always reminded us of this. Jesus spent so much of His ministry at tables, multiplying loaves and fishes, celebrating weddings, and breaking bread at the Last Supper. In each of those moments, it wasn’t about what was served. It was about who was served.

Saint Benedict told his monks to “welcome all guests as Christ.” That’s a tall order, isn’t it? But it doesn’t mean I need to have everything perfect every time someone comes to the door. It means that whether I’m serving a home-cooked feast or takeout pizza, the most important thing is how my guest feels: Did they feel at home? Did they feel loved? Did they feel like they mattered?

The season we’re moving into—October with its crisp evenings and November with its spirit of gratitude—seems like a good time to shift how we think about hospitality. Instead of draining ourselves with the stress of doing too much, maybe this year we can focus on what matters most.

Hospitality can be as simple as a pot of soup and a comfy chair, a cup of tea with a friend who just needs to talk, or a smile at the door, even if the laundry pile is still on the couch.

Those small gestures, offered with love, are more than enough.

Yes, my kids will probably still tease me for overdoing it. Honestly, they’re not wrong. I have two huge plastic totes filled with pumpkins and leaf garlands that somehow all make their way out and around the house in the fall. But I am going to try to laugh at myself a little more and not let the prep wear me down. People don’t come for the decorations (although they are fabulous!). They come to feel welcome. And when we offer that welcome with love, Christ has a way of showing up at the table.