I’ve always loved the idea of gathering around a table to share a meal. I like to hear about people who barely know one another coming together, bringing their own version of some dish, and sitting down to eat.
Tables come in all shapes and sizes. We slide them together and seat a few more. At some of stage of life, most everyone has at least one table. Some have two or three. And if we don’t have one, we makeshift with a box, a couple of blocks and a board, a cooler, or anything else we can find to set a plate, a cup, or maybe a game of cards.
Tables are common ground, and I have just one.
I’m a mom in her fifties. I’m a wife. I’m a Texan. These are the ways I typically identify myself. If you come to know me better, you’ll find out I work. Get to know me more, you’ll find out I’m a Christian. If we become friends, you’ll learn I like to write, I like flowers, and I like dogs. As we become better acquainted, you’ll learn how much I love coffee and how much I love to sit around a table and share. Good food makes for good conversation. The kitchen table is where my family gathers. We eat, talk, play games, and share from the heart.
A few years ago, I facilitated a class for a group of ladies. We gathered around the table and shared our stories, fears, grief, and support. We prayed together. We encouraged one another. We remain friends to this day.
So, tables have come to mean a lot to me. They’re a symbol of gathering, sharing, trusting.
Where you gather and where I sit don’t always look the same. But no matter the table, let’s make it longer so we can seat a few more.