Hospitality Is My Ministry


Gifted by Lorraine Saulino-Klein
Gathered by Nancy Small
Laramie, November 2024

Lorraine strives to live by her faith, enacting hospitality as her ministry and opening her home to young women in need. In this story, she reflects over her work providing refuge to others. While guided by her belief that having more comes the obligation to give more, she also must sometimes draw boundaries so she can sustain her practice of welcoming generosity.

Lorraine: I firmly believe that if you have more, you have a greater obligation in this world to give more. And I will never forget that a dollar is a lot of money to some people.

You know, I’m very blessed. I can be a widow and stay in this house. I can pay my bills. I can take care of myself. I just feel like that obligation is greater. And I love to serve. I always say, my ministry is hospitality.

Father Rob always calls me from the Newman Center and says, “I’ve got a student that has no money.” So I had a New Yorker for two summers. She lived here—and had no money—but she stayed. And I got to be really connected with some of these kids, because I know what it is to struggle and to try to make ends meet. And he always sends me people that need a little more than just financial help. So I do that. I mean, it’s a good thing.

We have a program at Newman Center that’s called Home Away from Home. They don’t have to live with you, but I’ve just happened to have a few live with me—or stay. I’ve been to a wedding in New York, which was exciting, because a kid from here got a scholarship. I’ve been to a wedding in Sheridan. I’ve gotten baby pictures. And I think, Do they ever go away? But they don’t. They don’t. They just stay part of your life—all these lovely... and I only take women. I don’t take men. 

Nancy: I love that you say that hospitality is your ministry. That’s the extra, right? It’s not just, “Here’s a space I’ll share with you,” but like, “I want you to feel safe and welcome and at home here, too.”

Lorraine: Right. It’s so much different having a grown-up than a kid. It took me weeks to say, “Anna, when you come in, say hello, say that you’re here.” She scared the crap out of me a few times. I’d turn around and there she is, and I’m going, “My God!” And a lot of those kids do that. “Please tell me when you’re leaving,” because I’ll leave a light on for you. You know, those kinds of social grace things.

And I’ve ended up teaching. I’d say, “Well, I hope when you go to dinner at your boyfriend’s house, you’re not on your phone when you’re sitting at the table with somebody, because that really isn’t very respectful.” And, “Did your mother ever tell you that?” “Yeah, she did.” And she’d go back to texting. But when she came back from visiting that boyfriend, I noticed she didn’t use the phone at the table anymore.  Just a little prepared. Texting at the table is not a good thing to do when you're out at a meal or just visiting with somebody.

Nancy: It takes the attention off what it should be on. It’s simple things.

Lorraine: It is simple things. It’s just a courtesy, yeah.

I mean, I did put a few kids out. Like, a kid turns 18 in January and she’s graduating in May—and the stepfather says, “I don’t want her here anymore.” And the mother says, “Go.” It doesn’t matter where you are. These are just kids who hear a different drummer. They hear a different sound.

But they’re smart.

Anyway, I came home one day and my house smelled like pot. I said, “That’s it, honey—you’re out.” And then I had one graduate student that I put out because I said: “no eating upstairs—bugs. Clean your dishes. Don’t steal. Don’t lie. And if you empty something in the house—just tell me, and I’ll replace it. Food or whatever.”

“And don’t leave the windows open like this. You know, they come out like this. And if it’s windy—oh, you’ve got to shut the window or it’ll be gone on the prairie. You have to just keep them cracked.” I’m on the prairie!

So—it was raining—and I went up there to the bedroom. And I just cried. There was food all over, mashed into the floors. Chicken bones. I took out thirteen 13-gallon bags of vodka bottles.

And Father—he asked me to take this gal because she was so distraught. He said, “You’re probably going to save her life if you take her.”

But I said, “You have to go. I’m sorry, but you have to be out by Friday.” It took me nine hours to clean the room. My brother came over and spent two days cleaning the rug—getting all the food out, the stains, the hot sauce in the carpet. He said, “Take pictures—because people think everyone’s just a little messy. But this is a problem.”

I showed Father the picture and he said, “Oh, she has a problem—and it’s not just this.”

And eight months later, after she graduated and got an incredibly good job—finished more postgraduate work—she came back. Apologized to me. Apologized to Father Rob. 

But she said, “I was just very upset.” Even her parents said, “You’re cruel. You’re not a Christian.” And I said, “Too bad, honey. I’m sorry you feel that way. But that doesn’t happen here. This is my house.”

I don’t have many rules. But respect for my property is really important to me—especially since I didn’t have anything as a kid. And so, I really take care of stuff. You know? I’m very careful.


Note: The transcript above has been condensed from its original audio recording to improve the flow and readability of the story.