When we moved to our middle-aged bungalow a few years ago, we knew we'd have to make changes to its front - one day. The cement stairs and stoop (which could barely fit two at a time) led to a nondescript metal screen door. Behind that was a flat-paneled front door, with peeling paint. Both doors got too hot to touch under the afternoon sun.
A few years later, I wandered the streets of a large city taking photos of homes I liked. No two were the same, but they had one thing in common. Their front entries all had a "come hither" look that made me want to march up, ring the bell, and announce, "Hey, I'm here! Let's have tea!"
The porch on some of those homes featured a "plopping" chair for easy removal of footwear. Others had wreaths, small decks, or attractive mailboxes. Some had bright-coloured doors, pillars, or potted cedars. Each one, to those standing on the street, pronounced "Welcome."
Many months and much work later, our home, with the addition of new siding, a wide-pillared deck and an old-fashioned screen door, finally whispered a welcome of its own. Except for one thing: we needed a mat.
In the store, I found one that made me smile. Other than a good stiff pile for scratching footwear clean, the cocoa straw rectangle had nothing to recommend it. But printed in tall block letters, dead centre, it read, "GO AWAY."
I almost bought that mat, but reasoned that while most adults would catch the humour, I didn't think the grandbeans would - and of all the people that enter Hope House, I want them to know they're welcome.
When I told seven-year- old Benjamin about the mat I'd left behind, he took a fit of laughter that threatened to topple him off his chair. "Oh, Nana," he gasped. "Why didn't you buy THAT one?" His reaction reminded me of what I already knew. The mat in front of our door could say anything at all, because over and over, he's learned that inside waits those who love, love, love him - even when he drags in a bit of mud.
When it comes to relationships - and homes - what matters most reaches beyond the words we use and the exterior we display. Whether a guest, friend or stranger; whether they tromp, tiptoe, march or meander into our homes - or our lives - how loved they feel when we're together is what spells WELCOME.
I've talked to people standing on life's proverbial sidewalk, considering God. Often they're put off by what they feel is unattractive and too hot to touch. Perceived unfairness, arbitrary judgments, rigid rules, unloving actions. In their books, those things spell GO AWAY.
But some, yearning for truth, ignore all that and reach for the door - relationship with Jesus Christ himself. Like my grandbeans, what they find is love, forgiveness, and acceptance - even when they track in a little mud.
If you don't believe me, start reaching.
