House on the hill
A confusing party at a mysterious mansion
Imagine you’ve been invited to a mysterious party. You arrive at the address excited and more than a little anxious.
You don’t understand or even remember how you got an invite in the first place.
You do remember the invitation cards being unlike anything you’d ever seen before. You were convinced that the ink had been painstakingly hand-painted in gold-leaf!
Standing now at the gates to the mysterious mansion you ring the bell and wait.
In the silence of the night one thought keeps running through your head, “Who on earth lives here…and, why me?!”
After just a small amount of time you are greeted at the gate and, after having your invitation cards inspected, you are escorted quickly inside.
Your jacket is taken and you’re offered drinks and a selection of delightful appetisers.
You’re told to make yourself at home and are then left to your own devices.
Less nervous now that you’ve made it inside. On the drive over you were sure that you’d be turned away at the door but the person who greeted you made it quite clear that they had been expecting you.
A combination of the bubbly drink, the enormous chandelier filled dance hall and the exquisite live music was making you feel quite giddy. If you had to describe it you would say you felt…love-filled.
Something about the place made you feel more confident and comfortable than you usually would at a party. And, determined to make the most of this one-off evening. You made a enthusiastic bee-line for the other guests.
Over the course of the night you meet many wonderful people, and some less than wonderful, of all backgrounds and educations. The conversation however always defaults to the same question. “Who’s party is this anyway…does anyone know!?” “Has anyone met the owner?”
There were an odd few who claimed to have met the owner but when you questioned them deeper they became more and more vague with their answers.
Meanwhile the drinks flowed and food was plentiful. Everyone in high spirits.
There had been a general consensus that ‘Mr Big’, as a few folks had mischievously christened him, would make an appearance at midnight.
Complete with fireworks, and trumpets. Some had even said he would be accompanied by a great eagle which he would hold aloft on his leather gauntlet and release into the room when the time was right.
As the night wore on and you found yourself tiring of conversation. You got the distinct impression that everyone here thought themselves special in some different way —because how else would they have been invited to such a prestigious party!
There was the guy who laid paths for a living. He said he was the funniest guy in the room and that’s why he was here. There was the banker who told you in a roundabout way that he’d made a large fortune for his company and a small fortune for himself and that’s why he was here. Then there were those guys who claimed to know the owner directly who were very stiff, seemingly holding themselves aloft and rather aloof.
Everyone had a very different story to tell but in a strange way it all started to feel very repetitive. Like they were all trying to say the same thing.
Well, midnight came and the room fell silent.
You could feel the anticipation in the air. But, instead of a fanfare and a fantastic revelation…there was just silence.
It was in that silence that the lady who had greeted you that night quietly told the room that the party had ended and we were to make our way out…please & thank you.
I don’t know about you, but I couldn’t help feeling disappointed and confused on the drive home.
It was a wonderful evening but I’d tried all ways to find out who the owner was! If I’m being honest, I really wanted to find out why he thought I was special enough to be invited to such a spectacular event.
I suppose I could’ve found out if hadn’t let myself get distracted by celebrities and the powerful looking people who stood out in the room. And I did spend an awful amount of time taking to folks at the party who I was absolutely sure had the answers I was seeking…but actually just talked themselves in circles.
Meanwhile, unbeknownst to everyone, including me, the owner was starting the long, laborious process of clearing up all the mess.
Remarkably, the owner had decided to wait on all her guests herself and also do all the cleaning. So, the lady who’d served us drinks all night…the one I’d barley made eye-contact with…was also the host.
The very same lady who took our jackets and made sure we had everything we needed was now rejoicing in her heart at all the work she was able to do for us even after we were gone.
In retrospect, it’s a good job I never found out the true identity of the owner. I’d only try to be a sly fox and use this information to my advantage. Somehow leverage the fact I had answers other people don’t or maybe hold myself with airs and graces because I thought myself some how closer to such a powerful and heart centred being
As for ‘Mrs Big’, she doesn’t question her giving nature. It’s just the thing that makes her happy and fills her heart. And that’s the feeling we all felt as we made ourselves at home in her home.
Maybe you and I can stop searching for answers and allow ourselves to fully embrace the true invitation which is to just make ourselves at home in Her home.