More Than Hosting: How International Students Brought Music, Meaning, and Moisturizer Into Our Lives

A Christmas Memory to Begin With...

One of the moments that perfectly captures what it’s like to host international students would be Christmas.

This short video clip shows us all together—laughing, eating, celebrating. It’s loud, it’s joyful, and honestly, it’s one of those rare times where everyone comes together under one roof, no matter where they’re from. Watching it again always brings back a flood of happy memories.

But as much as this and other videos we've managed to capture convey the warmth and fun of hosting, they're just the tip of the iceberg.

Some of the most meaningful moments can’t be captured on camera. They happen quietly—over a simple conversation, during a shared meal, or when someone trusts you in a moment of vulnerability.

So while this clip is a beautiful snapshot of what we’ve shared, the stories that follow are the ones that live beyond the lens. They’re the heartbeats behind the laughter, and the reason we keep opening our doors—and our lives.

When we first started hosting international students, it was mostly for practical reasons. We had the space. The extra income didn’t hurt. And honestly, we thought—why not? It’ll be interesting. Cultural exchange, a few thank-you notes, and maybe a fridge that stays full for less than 24 hours. Sounds about right.

But what I didn’t expect was just how personal the whole thing would become. It’s not just about giving someone a place to stay—it’s about being part of their story. And strangely enough, it’s about how they become part of yours, too.

The Confident One Who Surprised Me

One of our students struck me right away as someone who had it all figured out. Super articulate, mature, composed—you know the type. The kind of student who talks like he's always one sentence away from inspiring a crowd.

But one day, we had a conversation that completely shifted my perspective.

He came to me, visibly unsure, and asked if I could help him see a different doctor. He had visited one through his student insurance, but said he felt uncomfortable with some of the questions being asked. They were standard things—medical history, medications—but I could see he was really struggling.

I won’t go into details, because that’s his story, not mine. But what I will say is that this student—who I thought was unshakable—trusted me enough to be vulnerable in a moment of real fear. We talked, and I did my best to reassure him that doctors are professionals, and confidentiality is part of their professional ethics—something they're trained to uphold. Eventually, he calmed down.

That conversation reminded me of something important: even the most confident people have moments of doubt. And sometimes, just being there to listen can make all the difference.

When the Piano Came Back to Life

This one’s close to my heart.

When our kids were younger, our home was always filled with piano music. They’d practice daily, and I’d sometimes sing along (not the best singer, but with lots of heart). It was a small ritual that brought me peace—even on tough days.

But as the kids got older, that piano grew quieter. I never pushed them. Music should be something they choose. But I missed it—more than I let on.

Then, one day, a student sat down and started playing. Then another. Turns out, piano is quite popular in some countries, and these students had learned from a young age. Soon enough, the music was back. Not perfect, not polished—but real. Warm. Familiar. And the joy it stirred in me? Absolutely priceless!

One of them confided in me that he was learning a special piece to surprise his girlfriend when he returned home. He wanted it to be perfect before he played it for her. I was touched—not just by the gesture, but by the fact that he trusted me enough to share that little secret.

The Skincare Intervention

Then there was the time I was out working in the yard, probably looking a little... sun-kissed, let’s say.

One of the students rushed out with a bottle of sunblock and handed it to me like he was saving my life.

“Tito, you need this,” he said with genuine concern.

I laughed and said something like, “I think it’s too late for me, I'm too old for that” But he was serious—eyebrows furrowed, almost offended. I suspect it’s the Korean in him. Skincare there is like a second religion. Men, women, kids—everyone’s glowing.

I honestly don’t remember if I actually used it, but I’ll never forget the look on his face. That mix of concern and gentle scolding? It was kind of sweet.

Small Things That Stayed With Me

Some stories are quiet, but they stay with you.

Like the student who wasn’t even Catholic but came to church with us one Sunday. Just curious, maybe, or maybe trying to connect.

Or the one who happily walked our dog—didn’t blink when it came to picking up poop—and even gave her a full grooming like he was her personal stylist.

There are the ones who bring small gifts from their home country when they arrive. Thoughtful little things, even though they’ve never met us. And the notes they leave when they go? Some of those letters are folded up somewhere safe. The words have faded a bit. But the feeling stayed — it was good. Like, for a moment, I really mattered.

An Offer That Said It All

One student came from a very well-off family. After his stay, the parents invited me and my wife to visit their country—all expenses paid—as a thank-you for taking care of their child. Of course, we couldn’t accept. But the sincerity behind the offer? That meant everything. Even if their child slightly overhyped what we did (which I’m sure he did), it felt like a meaningful sign that we were doing something right.

So Why Keep Doing This?

Hosting international students isn’t always easy. It’s not just opening your home—it’s opening your life. Your routines. Your space. Sometimes even your leftover cake.

But it’s also a chance to see the world in your own home.

It’s about music returning when you didn’t know how much you missed it. It’s about quiet thank-yous and loud laughter. It’s about sunblock, trust, dogs, and goodbyes that end with hopeful see-you-agains.

So yes, it takes work. But moments like these? They make it all worth it.