Hosting is not the same as entertaining (and that’s a good thing)

Hello friends and newcomers,

Welcome! You are welcome here.

There’s a quiet pressure tucked into the idea of entertaining. It’s the pressure to have everything just right — the house, the food, the timing, the mood. It can feel like a very long checklist: clean the kitchen (again), dress up, light the candles you usually save, and serve something impressive. Make it look effortless. Be warm but polished. Create a moment worth remembering.

But when I think about the nights that have actually meant something — to me or to someone else — they’ve rarely looked like that.

Hosting is different. It’s not about setting a scene. It’s about making space and time. For someone to feel seen. For conversation that doesn’t have to rush. For presence over polish. For the kind of connection that can only happen when people feel safe to be real.

This week I reread Open Heart, Open Home by Karen Mains — it was written in the 70s, but the heart of it still holds. (A lot of people say it’s one of the best books about hospitality.) She describes hospitality not as a performance, but a posture. A willingness to be interrupted. To notice the need in front of you and say yes, even when your house (or your life) isn’t quite ready.

One line kept echoing for me:
​It’s not about being ready — it’s about being willing.​
That changes everything.

The food matters, of course. But not because it’s impressive. It matters because it says: I thought about you. I made time for this. I made room for you. You’re worth planning for — even if the plan is pizza on a paper plate with a basket of unfolded washing in the corner.

An author I love, Shauna Niequist says, “Hospitality is holding space for another person to be seen and heard and loved. It’s giving someone a place to be when they’d otherwise be alone.”

And honestly, I don’t think people are craving perfect homes or three-course meals. I think they’re craving permission — to show up with their whole, messy selves and still be welcomed.

As Shauna also writes,
​“This is how the world changes — little by little, table by table, meal by meal, hour by hour.”

Hosting doesn’t always happen on schedule. Sometimes, it’s the unplanned knock at the door or the text that turns into “come over.” The best conversations often happen with the dishes left undone.

That’s the heart of Friday’s Pizza. Just a quiet, standing invitation to make space and time — and let that be enough.

If this resonates with you, I’d love it if you shared this newsletter with someone who might need it too. Someone who’s tired of performing. Someone who’s ready to belong.

Thanks for being here.
Same time next Friday?

— Rachel