I have never walked into my mom and dad’s home as an adult without being asked to sit down—usually at the dining room or kitchen table—to food. It’s not always fancy—though I can remember many elaborate holiday celebrations with standing rib roasts, homemade bread, multiple complex desserts, and a fully set table. It’s always a welcome place, for sure.
In fact, if I call on the way to my mom’s house and tell her I am in route to visit, and even tell her—don’t do a thing—in the 30-minute drive to get there, she will have made a hearty soup and warm cornbread, or freshly baked chocolate chip cookies and hot tea, or even somehow miraculously fresh-from-the-oven cinnamon rolls. Don’t tell me how she does it—I appreciate the mystery of this amazing feat.
Heaven forbid we arrive unannounced (well she doesn’t mind a pop-in, she just wants to make sure there is food to offer)—the invitation to sit is still there, but my mom will spend the next few minutes rattling off a list of possible items she could quickly provide to make sure we feel welcome, loved and maybe so we will stay just a little longer. She’ll say, “do you like peaches—I have some that are ripe, they taste good; mixed nuts? —I just picked up a big container from Costco, the good kind with pecans and cashews. Your dad can’t have salt, and these are a little salty. Caramel pecan clusters? I hide these because they are so good I can’t stop eating them. Oreo? Who doesn’t love an Oreo.” We always find something, and the goodies are quickly arranged—in a bowl or on a plate, with a cloth napkin and placemat. No matter the occasion and the offering—it always looks pretty and welcoming. That’s my mom’s style and her mom’s before; I can’t say I carry on the tradition as well, but I certainly think of these moments and my mom and grandmother every time I entertain and even when I fix a quick meal at home, we sit down, together, and it looks nice.
Sitting at the table, together and enjoying food together—that symbolizes love and care and support in my family. It is a time to slow down and talk, share successes and exciting news or sadness and difficult times. It is a time to listen and cast aside differences or at the very least open our minds and hearts to welcome debate. Some of our most poignant memories were at that family table—sharing news of impending births and wedding announcements, recounts of trips of a lifetime, tales of job promotions and school achievements, the sorrows of a cancer diagnosis or death of a loved one. It is where we offer solace and prayer and space to talk.
This past week we celebrated my mom’s birthday. We had her favorite food—BLT sandwiches and homemade chocolate chip cookies—we sat at the table and enjoyed each other’s company. Then she had a special request—that we all set outside together, no phones, no distractions—let’s just talk. It was nice, a simple time and a forever memory. And a good reminder that you don’t always have to have a table to “sit at the table” with those you care about but it so special to make time listen and share and welcome each other.
Lori Hall, Executive Director of Missions
