Being the Beloved:
stories of ongoing transformation in daily life
By Andy Pelander
“Where do you believe what we give to others comes from?” I asked.
“From a place of self-emptying or from fullness?”
And why is this helpful to distinguish? Because on the face of it, what’s easy for any of us to believe is that when pouring yourself out for— or into— someone else, relationally or otherwise, you as the giver must or will become less. Drained or diminished in some way. That to serve or support or listen or absorb is to shrink or reduce or lop off a piece of oneself.
Is this how “other-centeredness” has been commonly envisioned or engaged in spaces where we are “pouring into” another?
Pretty obviously yes. But unnecessarily, and there is a far more sustainable approach.
I work at the sort of restaurant that has the capacity and privilege of hosting half-year hospitality internships, which have built-in margin for wondering aloud together about what enables one human to pour into another, whether for a moment or a season. Is it simply care, intentionality, curiosity, generosity of heart?
And if so, again, from where do these spring?
Do I, in other words, fill your cup entirely from what’s in mine, or is something filling my cup in such a way that what fills yours is simply overflow?
These are the kinds of conversations I get to have with newcomers to this “industry” of ours, called hospitality. As if this ancient practice of meeting another in need with your own abundance– in essence, giving from what’s been given– could be viewed as transactional when clearly, as our deepest longings reveal, connection is our lifeblood. Whatever else we might say is exchanged within a generosity-shaped relationship, is your and my essential aim, beneath all the rest, not the hope of being seen and safe? Or, in the language of hospitality, to be turned toward?
I spend my days— and two nights a week— at Canlis, often hashtagged a #northwest fine dining institution in Seattle. But my goodness, institution? Might as well call a cherry blossom an algorithm. Or generosity a widget.
Picture instead a team in sync toward a single objective: room made for the other. And by “other” we mean anyone who needs room simply to be— themselves, with their own, or newly embraced.
Room. Simply to be.
To be still; to be anticipated, celebrated, free. Dignified and enjoyed.
When I’m not peppering interns with a deeper, so-called “Andy question” or pouring wine or ironing table linen, I continue to press into my formation as a spiritual director within the CFDM NW community. Which, as it happens, turns 25 this month…
So, we’re throwing a big party on Saturday, April 11, and you are invited!
Invited to come and to be. Invited to stand with others whose lives have been altered in the wilderness by the God who meets us there. So that he can walk with– or carry– us there.
Invited, too, to bear witness to our pressing questions: God, do you see what’s happening? God, are you inverting and healing and restoring all of this also?
Invited to simply celebrate and raise a glass, in awe…
That God, always first to turn toward, has given us himself to turn toward always.
This God who is insistent on benediction– the good word spoken over you– and whose heart is inclined to whisper, peace I bring you.
Where does what we give to others come from? A place of self-emptying or of fullness?
Andy Pelander is a husband and a dad to three grown kids, whose golden retriever is called Bug. He serves as board chair for CFDM Northwest and is a lifelong student of hospitality, as both an Anglican priest and, currently, head of staff care and development at Seattle’s storied Canlis (canlis.com), whose mission is “to inspire people to turn toward one another.” Learn more about his direction and coaching work at intheseam.org.
What books, media, activities are nurturing your heart, soul, mind, strength in this season as we are loving God and our neighbor as ourselves? Post in the comments below or hop on over to our Facebook page and share with one another.