Visits
“Come in, Winter,” said Owl. “Come in and warm yourself for a while.”
In The Guest, Owl is eating dinner when he hears a knock at the door. When no one is there he believes that winter is knocking at his door. He opens the door and invites winter to come inside. As winter comes in it pushes Owl against the wall, blows out his fire, freezes his soup and swirls snow into every room. Owl pleads with his guest to behave, but winter doesn’t listen, so Owl demands that winter leave. Winter leaves, slamming the door. Owl makes a new fire, which warms the room, melts the snow and thaws his soup, and Owl finishes his meal.
Home is often filled with many types of visitors. Since moving to a new house three and a half months ago my family has welcomed a team of HVAC technicians, some plumbers (on a few occasions), an electrician and concrete specialists. These would be visits out of necessity; repairs and renovations that we cannot do ourselves. We have also had family stay for long visits. These would be visits out of choice; people we love and wish to see for a while. And then, occasionally, there are those knocking on our door telling us we need their security, their pest control, or their solar panels and we find ourselves with visits that are both unnecessary and unchosen (I think solicitors is the nice word to use here).
“The poor old winter is knocking at my door,” said Owl. “Perhaps it wants to sit by the fire. Well, I will be kind and let the winter come in.”
Owl’s visit is of another kind. An unexpected guest that is immediately welcomed. I know in my own life that gatherings are usually meticulously planned (especially these days) and unexpected guests seldom arrive. So I admire Owl’s readiness to welcome someone while he is in the middle of something. He seems to carry the belief that anyone who knocks surely must wish to enter and that there is no such thing as an interruption (even to a warm meal) but life simply emerging unassisted. And yet the visit quickly goes awry.
This is an all too common experience. The air conditioner can't be fixed so it has to be replaced, someone says something rude or the food doesn't taste good. These moments can be awkward at best and confrontational at worst. But Owl responds with the right amount of assertiveness. He asks his guest to behave, and when that fails he asks winter to leave. It is challenging to be this aware. We are either too nervous to request the former or so upset we jump straight to the dismissal, and the solution is as bad as the problem.
“You must go, Winter!” shouted Owl. “Go away, right now!”
Now, it is a silly thing to let the elements into our home. We’ve invented many ways to keep them out. But by the end of the story these words were familiar as something I would mutter about matters inside my internal home, my soul. For some reason we do not have the same safeguards for this home. We leave the doors ajar, windows open during the wrong seasons and many misbehaving guests are allowed to stay. I don’t believe Owl is encouraging us to lock up our house and keep everyone out — at the end he doesn’t seem to lose his friendly demeanor. No, what he does is pick up the place and restore things to how they were. Many times I have left snow piled around the rooms of my soul because I was too angry and hurt about what happened. Many times I have not bothered to finish the delicious meal I was eating and gone straight to bed because I was too tired and distracted to care for myself. Owl reminds me that this doesn’t have to be.
“Owl made a new fire in the fireplace. The room became warm again.”
It is inevitable that bad visits are going to happen in your living room and in your living soul. Putting a limit on your kindness or hospitality will probably not change this much. What matters is that you make a new fire and continue as you were, grounded in your home and presence. You let the snow melt and the place warm up because it belongs to you. You finish your supper because it is important that you take care of others and yourself.
May you have the kindness to open your door on those cold days and share the warmness of your home. May you have the courage and dignity to defy the winters that push you around and dismiss the coarseness that invades your presence. And may you, if nothing else, remember to make a new fire and warm yourself again.
All quotes from Owl at Home, Copyright © 1975, by Arnold Lobel