A Home That Invites
BY : HANNAH HUTTON
It isn’t a color scheme that casually flows through each room or a freshly swept floor.
It isn’t the perfect playlist streaming in the background or a plate of homemade cookies waiting on the table.
It isn’t well-behaved kids or the fanciest food.
What makes a home inviting? The people.
When I think back to the homes I’ve felt the most welcomed in, it is the places where I was invited into someone’s life routines and rhythms, just as they are. Even if that meant messy and on a budget.
Sure, the cookies and the colors might add to the experience. However, I would venture to say I’d rather be a guest in a home where I feel more like a family member, than someone who was perfectly prepped for.
I have always loved inviting people into our home. Early in our marriage we weekly hosted people we met on airplanes, in coffee shops, kids from the youth group and neighbors from down the street. I will forever cherish those evenings. Now with two kids under two & a lot less margin in my days, hosting looks very different these days. I am learning to host just as I am, as our home is, as our budget allows – and man has it been life-giving.
Kids laughter out back on a Saturday afternoon, napkins wrapped around popsicles, sandwiches on paper plates, and Costco sparkling water. Little hands digging in the sand and little ones tucked under mom’s shirts nursing amidst the noise.
New friends over on a Monday night to play Wingspan and eat pistachio bread I made for the first time. Pulling random things out of the fridge because we all started feeling snacky before the game ended. So much laughter.
Families we love over for a game night turned sleepover just because, but not before tucking into bed the six children we have between us…tucked in our closet and guest room… wherever we can make space. Dishes piled in the sink and shoes everywhere. The best kind of mess.
A house? Just walls.
But a home? Walls built by the joy, values, memories, and safety created by those inside. When we invite others into the home we’ve built, a little bit of each of these things sows into them, and they take it with them when they leave. Through that exchange, relationships are deepened and homes become more beautiful.
Color schemes are fun, and I love a good throw pillow. I love to get fun new bowls and utensils to serve on when guests come over, and I can imagine the smell of a fresh homemade batch of chocolate chip cookies even as I type this. But more than these things, I pray our home is a place where people feel they can be themselves, ask the hard or uncomfortable questions, wrestle through a hard season of marriage, feel safe enough to be honest, and believe they don’t have to have it all together to be welcomed here.
That is a home that invites.
Ironically, it’s one where the relational walls come down – a life lived with realness and rawness. In a space that might feel less than imagined, but speaks of a family that has lived and loved in it. A home that says, “You don’t have to be perfect to be loved here.”
These are the moments I’ve grown to fight for, to make space for.
The deep, rich, raw, core memory making ones.
Open up your home and watch the magic happen.
Pick a random Wednesday and pull out that frozen lasagna and bag salad. . Serve regular old tap water and do it all on paper plates if you have to. Ask questions like “Do you remember your favorite family vacation? What did you love so much about it?” and “What is one area you all are struggling in right now, and how can we support you in it?”. Linger around the table and give plenty of time for the answers.
I think you’ll see as you begin to open up your home more often and fight to care more about how the people feel than how the food tastes: fostering a home that invites changes you. Your life will become richer and your relationships stronger.
The relationship matters over the meal, the memories over the mastery of hosting.
