When you hear the word “hospitality” what comes to mind? How do you feel about it?

A.    Entertaining in my perfectly clean and tastefully decorated home (which feels pressured)

B.    A gift or skill that some people (but not me) have (which feels intimidating)

C.    Gathering friends (and strangers) around the table (which feels exciting)

D. A spiritual practice of welcoming people into any space (which feels inspiring)

Last week I traveled to California to teach at the West Coast Christian Writers Conference. My writing bestie Susy Flory (follow her here) directs the conference, and I serve on the board and faculty. After the conference we spent a few days together at her cabin in the mountains.

We spent time reading, hiking, watching movies, and recuperating from three intense days of mentoring and teaching writers. When we get together, we talk about things we’re writing, or want to be writing. We talk about books we’ve read, and books we want to write. And sometimes, we don’t talk at all but that feels very comfortable and cozy—and needed after three days of being “on” and teaching.

My friend Susy, who claims she doesn’t like hospitality, welcomes me to the Sierra Nevadas.

In our many conversations over the weekend, we talked about “hospitality.” I was surprised when she said she doesn’t want to read about hospitality. Learn why by reading the rest of this post in my new Substack, Welcoming and Wandering!  Just launched this month, this newsletter explores the curious link between hospitality and travel, and how both can be practices that form us. Subscribe for free and join the conversation!