It’s Not About the Pie. Nicki Corinne White
My son-in-law, Shane, helped with demo and sheetrock. Nathan helped
with maneuvering the tub and vanity through the doors. The remodel took about
four months. Craig had gotten deals on several things online, so we had a vanity,
a bathtub, plumbing fixtures, and lighting all in boxes in our living room. We host
a small group Bible study at our home each week, and we knew we would not
cancel because of this enormous pile of construction supplies, equipment, debris,
and dust. No one cared. We enjoy our time together too much to let that bother
any of us. Hospitality makes the difference—nobody complains when they’re
having fun and being blessed.
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However, to be completely honest, it is true that a couple hours before Bible
study, I usually run around and touch up the house, get out dishes for dinner,
figure out beverages, and get things set up. Our dog, Ginger, knows the drill.
She knows people are coming over, and she waits by the door because mommy
is acting like people are coming. One time my friend, Lyn, came about thirty
minutes early. She asked what she could do to help, and I said I was doing OK, but
I was sweaty and running around. Then she said in her witty way, trying to calm
me down and help me regain my perspective, “You know, I have a friend writing
a book called
It’s Not About the Pie
.” She loved me enough to get my attention
with that bit of humorous sarcasm, and I got the message. Here I was stressing
while writing a book that tells others not to stress. I do race around when people
come, and have even been known to paint a mural before a gathering—yes, it’s
true. I think it’s that “art thing.” I have painted a scene on a wall as part of my
decorating, sometimes hours before people have come over. I think we all want to
be prepared when people are coming over. There is nothing wrong with that; it is
a good thing. However, we must think about the purpose of hospitality, which is
not perfection.
My college friend, Re, had this to say about her house and “perfection”:
I have piles of stuff: piles of papers, magazines, laundry, dishes, mail,
newspapers, random boxes. With three children, I had piles of backpacks,
toys, and school papers. You may have some of the same piles as I do, or
they may vary. That’s OK. Don’t let the stacks of stuff in your house keep
you from inviting people in. I used to always apologize for the messiness
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of my house to my friend Joanne and give an excuse. “I’m sorry about the
mess, but the kids were sick. Forgive the piles of mail, I have had a hectic
week.” And so on. Then I realized that I said that every time she came over.
The messiness wasn’t an anomaly; it was really the norm! But she didn’t
care. It didn’t matter because a perfectly tidy home was not necessary to
be welcoming.
We didn’t always have a nice house or the most organized or neat home, but
I still needed to welcome people. Why else had I been given my home? I think
most of us, no matter what stage in life, can be thankful for our home and can
use it to help someone and we do not need to apologize for it. The beauty of it
all is that God can use imperfect people to perfectly bless other imperfect people
with everyone having a good time in the process!
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CHAPTER 3
Aunt Betty
“Be hospitable to one another without complaint, as each one has received a special
gift, employ it in serving one another, as good stewards of the manifold grace of God.”
—1 Peter 4:9–10
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After Craig graduated from Cal Poly, we moved up the coast to San Jose, where all
good software engineers go. We were sad as we drove up the 101 leaving all our dear
friends behind. I was about five months pregnant when Craig started work, leaving
me to set up the apartment and find my way around Silicon Valley. We only had one
car at the time, and if I wanted to go anywhere, I needed to take him to work each
morning. We had no idea that the San Jose area was six cities all blended together.
We got our first apartment in Cupertino, which was much higher in price. We did this
because the HP site Craig was to work at was in Cupertino. Then, after only a month
or two, we realized we could move a few miles away and pay a fraction of what that
apartment cost. After only about six months and the birth of our daughter, we moved
to San Jose. It wasn’t any farther for Craig to go to work, either. Our new triplex was
smaller than the apartment in Cupertino, but it was more like having a house (with a
garage and a little yard), and it was over twice the size of our first home.
One of the very best things about moving up the coast to the San Jose area was
meeting Aunt Betty and Uncle Bill. They are not blood relations, but they became
family. You may have those people in your life who are closer to you than family
and become embedded into your heart. They were parents of friends of ours from
where we had just moved. I think the very first week (or if not, the second week) after
we moved, I got a call from Betty. She had a thick New York accent. She asked if she
could drive me around to some fabric or craft stores and show me where they were. I
knew no one in the area so I said, “sure.” And so it began.
This petite Italian woman became so instrumental in my life. We became close
friends, not just because she took me places but for what she input into our lives.
She would bring