“I hope I’m not going to put you and your family to any inconvenience,” I tell my friend as I enter his house.

“No problems,” for any of us, “We have a guest room waiting for you!”

I shudder when I hear those words.

I’ve never been particularly lucky with guestrooms, I’ve been provided with. A few years ago, I slept on the floor, dragging the mattress off the cot and laying it on the ground. The next morning I had to scramble to put the mattress back on the floor as I heard my friend trying to push the door open. “Why did you take so long to open the door?” he asked, puzzled.

“I had to put the mattress back!” I said simply. “The cot was too short! Was it your baby cot?”

Sometimes it’s not the cot, it could be plumbing in the bathroom that doesn’t work or works overtime. “Can I hang my clothes outside?” I whisper.

“But you’ve just come in Bob?” asks my puzzled relative.

“Yeah, but I pulled the flush and the water gushed onto me!”

“Oh I forgot to tell you, the pipe is broken!”

“May I hang my clothes outside, “ I say as gently as I can, fuming inside.

 There’s one thing, though, I’ve noticed about guestrooms, they are simply wonderful to look at, “How do you like your room?” I’m asked as I’m shown round the house.

“It looks beautiful!” I say sincerely.

“Designed by my wife!” says the owner with pride.

Then why do guestrooms behave otherwise afterwards?

Because they are never used by the owner, and very often guests don’t complain.

“You look tired, didn’t you sleep well last night?”

“Slept like a log!” lies the guest, not wanting to say he felt like a log of wood, buffeted down a mountain stream.

We have guestrooms in our lives too: Rooms wonderfully designed but terribly uncomfortable to live in.

“Can I come into your life Bob?” asks a God above.

“Sure,” I say, “You can stay in the guestroom.

“But I would like to stay with you!”

“Stay in the guest room Lord, it suits all of us fine!”

The other day I was at a friend's place and he looked most apologetic. “What’s the matter?” I asked, as I got off the taxi and entered his home. “You’ll have to share the room with my son,” he said.

“Hurrah!” I shouted, “Now I’ll have taps that work, comfortable beds and soft pillows! 

My friend looked surprised as I felt a God above me smiling, knowing how it felt being welcomed into the main part of a home..!

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