The "Ministry of the Open Door"

(Because I'm moving anything that seems remotely worthwhile from the old blog from the last decade, and this concept is still very much alive in our family. So this was originally written a very long time ago.)

Someone asked me about the Ministry of the Open Door :

"It was a blessed treat to discover your new blog.  

Can you enlighten me on this “ministry of the open door”?  Is it developed from one of your poems?  If so, which book can I locate it in?

It’s a lovely, lovely concept and I want to “ponder” on it some more."

I suggested that she may not be the only one wondering about that idea, so maybe we should unpack it a little bit right here.

It started 16 years ago when we were still wrestling with the diagnosis of infertility. We had one lovely little daughter lighting up our days, and had been told (after a horrendously eventful pregnancy resulting in a sickly baby who had to be re-hospitalized) that we would likely never be able to have another. We were building our first (and probably only) house and planned on a quaint 1 1/2 story. A builder friend talked us into a full two-story house, explaining that it really wouldn't cost any more, and would actually be easier to build - rectangles being easier to manage architecturally than triangles. So. We built a two-story house on 10 acres, moved in, took a deep breath, and wondered what we would do with all this space.

I remember one evening soon after we had moved in, my husband turned to me in a moment of overwhelming gratitude and said something like, "How are we so blessed? What are we doing in this big, new house? How are we going to use this space?"

In one blazing half-second, I opened my mouth and said something I had never given a thought to before, words that came to define our lives in a way we could not have foreseen: "Well, we'll just have to be generous with it, and always keep the door open to people." Be careful what you say, it just may be true.

What we envisioned was a kind of meeting-place for people, and it is; we've hosted many a talk and meeting and prayer-group here. We've had more overnight guests than I can count. We have the most convenient space among family members for large gatherings, so every holiday is celebrated here. We have sometimes had so many guests and gatherings in a week that we joked that we need a revolving door!

You may have noticed that we've also opened our hearts to a lot more children, our infertility issues long forgotten (God likes to prove that all the science in the world isn't infallible, and somebody has to be the living proof - enter the Mulderinks! "The barren wife bears seven sons" [1 Sam].). Only God knew we would actually overfill what originally appeared to be more space than we needed. He provided before we knew what He was providing for!

There's a whole lot of living going on here.

When we had a lot of littles (and we had 5 children in 4 years, with 4 in diapers at once!), it was difficult for us to participate in organized apostolates with any consistency.

But we could still reach out to others by opening our house to them, and we did. And we do. It was not a conscious decision to have an "open-door policy;" we just kept opening our door, and people came to know that our house is open, and they are always welcome. Sometimes, of course, our lives are even more hectic and we are even more tired than usual and guests are on their way. That's when we realize that our open door is more than just friendliness - it is truly part of our "opus gloriae," a little ministry of welcoming people, of opening our family life to so many others, often to those who do not know this kind of happy chaos, this enriching joy of a large family going on grace.

And we, in turn, are more than repaid; we are deeply enriched by the people who come through our door - family and friends, married and single, old and young, consecrated and lay, professionals and laborers, musicians and artists, Catholics and non-Catholics, large families and small, tired and troubled and terrible, suffering and filled with overflowing joy, wealthy and poor, those in need and those who come to give; every single one has brought something wonderful into our family.

We feed and are fed, we pray with and for them and know that we are remembered in their prayers, we try to give and we receive so much. We eat together, we talk, we make music together. The kids put on plays, concerts, puppet shows. Sometimes, they even share what we're learning (Hurray! I think to myself. They're learning!). We chatter over coffee or a more relaxing beverage around the kitchen table or on couches. On summer and fall evenings, we often receive a call from someone asking, "Is it a 'Porch Night'?" Porch Nights have become legendary around here - gathering on the porch for conversation and music (if you play a portable instrument and you are willing to play with enthusiastic amateurs, you should bring it with you!), often until the wee hours. Sometimes, we move to the firepit. Light conversation very often becomes a d&m ("deep and meaningful"). Sometimes we are helping someone work through some crisis, sometimes we are acting as a respite in that crisis. Sometimes, I am sure, we are comic relief!

It is always an opportunity to open ourselves to others, to put their needs and wants before our own, to give and receive, to share whatever of ourselves we can. Anyone who visits here for more than 4 seconds is sure to observe what we believe (I remember my teen son's friend from orchestra, a non-Catholic, coming over for the first time; it didn't take long for him to ask - just to clarify - "Ok, so then, you guys are Catholic, aren't you?") We tend to "evangelize" more by the example of our lives than by words, but this often becomes an opportunity to explain the hope that is in us (1 Peter), to demonstrate what "makes us tick." And that something is grace.

Grace that we have freely received and try to freely give; blessed with many gifts, we want to share our energy and joy and love. We share our time and our thoughts, we invite others to pray with us, we give what we can, even when it is not altogether convenient or it is disrupting our well-laid plans. From our little - and very imperfect - community of persons, we try to give out of our abundance by simply remaining available to others, by welcoming others (we all need to be welcomed), by pouring out another cup of coffee or setting another place at the table.

My husband and I have come to call that the Ministry of the Open Door.