For as far back as my childhood memory allows, my family’s holiday table had a chair reserved for strangers. They were missionaries, foreign college students, pastors, traveling musicians, and roommates eager to experience a Norman Rockwell moment.

See, I grew up on the Michigan equivalent of Walton’s Mountain—farm families gathering together for food and fun on any occasion. Everyday grandparents. Cousins galore. Board games and ice skating and cookie-making and croquet.

We had a revolving door of guests who jumped right into whatever we had planned for the day. Planting and harvest were the biggest draws, but the holidays with their farm-food buffets and handmade gifts were a close second.

As children, we were fascinated when foreign exchange students from far-off countries like Turkey sat at our Thanksgiving table. (Plus, it was giggly-funny.) A Michigan State student from Yemen joined us for Christmas. Summers brought kids from Japan and Mexico. Strapping teenage German boys joined us one spring.

And what I find most fascinating on reflection of these glory days is how well everyone adapted. Guests tried new foods. We tried new languages. We never talked about politics or religion or anything controversial. We just laughed and ate and played games and enjoyed each other’s company. And really—isn’t that how it should be anyway?
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​This holiday, I encourage you to invite a stranger to your holiday table—a student, a recent transplant, a widow, an immigrant. You might be surprised how many people near you have no holiday plans, but would really like them. And just like that, you could be the difference between a long day of sorrow or joy. 

I get asked on occasion if there are cardinal rules to hospitality. The answer is: Yes! And no.

Hospitality is a gift. But it’s a learned gift. My hospitality skills started in childhood, improved in young adulthood, and are constantly evolving in mid-life. (See my early-June blogpost “Let those candles burn” for a one-time, legendary C grade in hosting.)

The basic starting point for successful hospitality simply involves friendliness, generosity and an inviting environment for letting the good times roll. After that, we’re just tweaking! Read on for my personal rules to make any guest feel special and any gathering successful.

Rule #1: Get yourself ready looooong before there’s even a chance your first guest will arrive. No one wants to ring your doorbell and be greeted by silence because you’re blow drying your hair upstairs. You can still be prepping in the kitchen, but you must personally be dressed and ready. 

Rule #2: If you’re not extremely confident in your cooking (i.e., you don’t cater meals or people don’t rave about your kitchen skills), stick to one of your best main dishes. Ask your guests to bring sides. In fact, when guests say, “What can I bring?” …be ready with suggestions.

Rule #3: Have an appetizer standing by for guests who trickle in. In the mid-South, nothing starts on time. In fact, a starting time is just a “suggestion.” My go-to appetizer is a plate of olives, cheese and crackers—simple!—served with a pre-dinner cocktail. Add in lovely cocktail napkins for extra pizazz. 

Rule #4: Dial down the spices. Your family may think “the hotter the better!” …but nothing will stop a party in its tracks like choking guests. Follow the recipe’s spice guidelines and have hotter spices at the table for individual tastes. You can always add spice later, but you cannot take it away.

Rule #5: Unless you’re hosting an outdoor picnic or gathering around the fire pit, use real dishes, silverware and glassware. I cannot stress this rule enough. I had to stop myself just now from using all caps and type-shouting it. Almost 70% of homes in America have a dishwasher—and I’d wager you’re living in one of them. Load it up and let it run!

Rule #6: And while I’m ranting… Use placemats or a tablecloth, and napkins that are not paper towels. Yes—even if your guests will be sitting at the kitchen counter. Yes—even if you’re moving the party to the deck. These affordable items are everywhere—estate/garage sales, discount stores, groceries. And repeat after me: Paper towels are not napkins. Say it again! Paper towels are not napkins. Chant it. Live it.

Rule #7: Unless you want your guests to clear out so you can go to bed, resist the urge to start cleaning up in the midst of the party. This is a tough one for me, but my husband Jimmy is great at reminding me to sit down and enjoy our guests. The dishes will still be there when our company leaves.

So there you have it: 7 basic hospitality rules. I have other, pickier rules—but those are specific to the type of party and guest and season. I guarantee if you follow these rules, every gathering you host will at least start out as a success. I mean, no one can predict what your crazy uncle might blurt out during dinner…am I right?

I am constantly surprised at how easy it is to improve someone’s day.

I’ve discovered that if I listen, really listen, I’ll find all kinds of opportunities to make a difference. And you can, too.

I know what you’re thinking: ‘But I have work. And chores. And errands. And kids. And a list.’ Yes you do. And so do I. But I vowed 20 years ago the LIST would never be more important than a person.

Now, this was a bold move for me because I looooooove my lists. I thrive on lists. Sometimes I add items to a list after completion just so I can gleefully cross them off. Truth! One particularly hectic time last month, I had a list for every day of the week. And I crossed off each bullet-pointed task on those lists like a crazed list Nazi.

Oh—and I also love a detailed calendar with days broken down hourly. I document appointments and addresses and notes and phone numbers—in pencil—like I’m a dignitary’s social secretary. Tucked between those calendar pages are my lists. I checked just now and counted six lists nestled in this week’s pages. Six!

Yesterday’s list was long, but I got a last-minute request to ferry a friend from a doctor’s appointment to home. That errand came with an invitation for lunch and coffee and, undoubtedly, snorts of laughter. I put the list aside and had a delightful few hours with a wise and funny woman.

Monday’s list was even longer, but I had a hurting friend who needed some joy. So I put the list aside, loaded up my car with fall flowers, and planted every one of them in her porch pots as she sat with me and gushed over their beauty. Two hours: worth it.

Friday’s list is ridiculous, but a friend is moving. She’s excited and sad and overwhelmed and exhausted. So I will attack that list until 2:00, when the moving truck arrives at the new house, and it’s time to unload and unpack and organize. That should put a spark into the process. It will be multiple hours of hard work and immense satisfaction. Ahhh…

So I invite you to start listening more to needs, spoken and unspoken, around you—real opportunities to say “no” to the list and “yes” to people. You may discover, as I did, that a line through a completed task has nowhere near the delight as a smile of gratitude.

I’m not a particularly picky eater. Seriously. The food could be patio-grilled. It could be straight from the crockpot. It could be gourmet or even takeout. But if you serve it on paper plates with plastic forks and a paper towel for a napkin, you’re gonna lose me.

My husband Jimmy realized this the very first time he asked me over for dinner. We hadn’t been dating long. His place was squeaky clean, fragrant candles glowed invitingly, soft 80s music played…and then he offered me wine in a red Solo cup.

I’ll pause as you imagine my internal scream.

“Ohhhh…” I murmured in a squeaky voice. “Do you have a glass? Of any kind? Even a juice glass?” He dug around and found a heavy beer glass that may or may not have been cleaned in the previous year. I took it. The next time I was invited to dinner, actual wine glasses stood proudly on the counter. And that’s when I knew he was a keeper.

See—anyone who’s special to you deserves the real things at a meal: non-disposable plates, metal utensils, serving bowls, glassware, not-paper-towels napkins. Note that I didn’t list bone China or sterling silver or lead crystal or fine linen. If you have those—great! Use them! But if you don’t, just go with your everyday dishes…that are actual dishes. They don’t even have to match!

And don’t forget the placemats. Everybody deserves a placemat. Yes—even the kids! My brothers and I ate off laminated placemats of Michigan landmarks. There was often a battle for the Mackinac Bridge mat. So fun…and educational! Mom just wiped them clean after meals.

If you’re feeling particularly bold—or if your guest is particularly special—add some flowers and candles. Put your condiments in little bowls or cups. Get completely ridiculous and add a centerpiece. Lose your mind with wine glasses. Voila! Beauty abounds!

Your table doesn’t have to be gorgeous every time, but it’s a great habit to form, educational for kids, and a step up in social dining skills. So, explore your cabinets, assemble the elements, and try it tonight!