Spontaneous Hospitality

Not A Kid

I used to live in Edmonton, Alberta.

Now I live in Sherwood Park, 15 minutes east. 15 minutes, 2–4 times a day. That drive annoys me, but I can deal with it, and I have been dealing with it for some time now. I live with my parents; I sleep in the basement and probably don’t eat supper there enough. However, my parents are wonderful. They are incredibly graceful and loving. They are patient and understanding; we get along really well. And yet, I need to move out. The thing is, when you live with your parents — no matter how wonderful, graceful, loving, patient and understanding they may be — you’re still a kid. Your parents will still tell you what to do. You will feel like a kid. You literally are their kid.

Jesse isn’t a kid in Eastern Edmonton. That’s why I am drawn to it.

During the day, I spend most of my time in Edmonton. Specifically, my life takes place in the Eastern part. I work in the East, I go to school in the East and my friends live in the East. There’s something special about it. Maybe it’s the 4 post-secondary years of memories that I have in the East. Maybe it’s that I’ve attended a church in the East for 22 years. Maybe it’s that I lived on my own in the East. Jesse isn’t a kid in Eastern Edmonton. That’s why I am drawn to it.

Spontaneous Hospitality

Spontaneous hospitality this idea that I’ve thought about for sometime. It only came to me because my experience made it significant. Here’s the thought: I started dating Andrea in January. She lives in St. Albert; that’s 35 minutes of driving from Sherwood Park. When I’m spending time at her house and it’s nearly midnight, I don’t want to drive 35 minutes home. What’s more appealing, is my close friend Brandon’s couch that is only a 15 minute drive away.

It’s midnight, I shoot him a text —

… okay, so he doesn’t seem all that excited, but I assure you, he’s relaxed. In fact, there hasn’t been one time where I wasn’t welcome to crash over.

Anyways, after a fifteen minute drive, I show up to his unlocked back door and go inside. I grab a few of the blankets pinched between the couch and the record player, their usual spot, and I go to sleep. This kind of hospitality operates on how well you know the person; where you’re relationship is. I wouldn’t just text anyone last minute asking to stay on their couch. But sometimes there are people who are on the same wavelength as you. There’s a real precious casualness to the relationship. Not formal.

One more example. Andrea and I were sharing a chai latte at a local coffee shop called Mandolin Book and Coffee Co. Cute place I guess. Mostly out of nowhere, Andi started feeling ill; like really sick. As you know, neither of us live in Edmonton. But Trevor does. Trevor lives a 2-minute drive away from Mandolin. Without hesitation I felt confident that I could just show up there. His wife/my friend Leanne answered the door and immediately offered their bed to Andi. After an hour nap, she felt way better and was able to drive home.

I’m used to it, but that doesn’t make it usual.

When I spend time in Edmonton, I feel at home. The two examples I described are a few of many. I have friends that care and I am so grateful for them. I’d say I am usually a 5 minute drive away from someone who would let me crash on their couch without question. Yes, I’m used to it, but that doesn’t make it usual. It’s unusual, unusually lovely.