Growing up at every holiday get together, I can remember sitting at the ‘kid’s table.’ Perhaps you did also, and even now you have one for your kids or grandkids. It makes us feel like kids, and we strain to hear what’s being said at the ‘adult’ table.
When we moved to the farm, one of the things our kids said they’d like to see us get was a huge table for all the family to sit together at holidays and celebrations. No more of the ‘kid’s table.’
So, my husband did a lot of research on tables and finally found a big farmhouse table that would fit in our smaller house. We can seat at least 10 people and probably more if we scooch together.
Yesterday, I was privileged to interview a friend for a podcast. In listening to her speaking, one thing caught my attention. As she described one particular trying time she’d had as a missionary overseas, she said her friends would ‘come to her table.’
I love that.
Those friends didn’t come to her table expecting food. They came to give of themselves; to sit and listen; to let her cry; to just be there.
How many times do we go to someone’s table? How often has anyone come to your table?
Just when she needed someone, anyone, her friends were there. God sent! She didn’t have to ask them to come.
We all have a table.
Sometimes it’s full.
Sometimes it’s empty.