Come to my table

I sat with a piece of paper, trying to draw out the design of our house.  We started from scratch and tried to visualize what we wanted for our family.  The kitchen was, by far, the most important part.  It is the heart of our home.  It is where I get to feed people.
Last week, a bunch of us moms gathered in my kitchen.  We know of a family struggling with a baby with health concerns.  In all of the discussing, we decided that feeding them was the most helpful thing.  It was decided to fill their freezer with meals to use whenever they needed it.  My house has a big open kitchen, so we worked here.
When the first guest arrived, we got into a discussion of how amazing it is to gather this way.  We felt like this is really what community is.  Gathering, preparing, cooking and eating food.  We did it in a way that fed a family, but it also fed our souls.  I am sure that I received more from the experience than I gave in a couple of casseroles.
There was a time when I told a family member he couldn't come to my house for a meal.  He was battling addiction, and I felt the need to protect my children.  Last year, I apologized to him.  I told him that my church had refused me communion and I understood what it must have felt like to be refused food.  This was a hard apology for me to make, because it felt like such a good decision at the time.  He answered with compassion, stating that he had understood why I did what I did.
Food becomes such a central part of what we do.  It is how most cultures celebrate, morn and grow.  One of my Spiritual Directors is from Africa.  I, naively, asked her one day if many people went with out food.  She was a bit offended by the question stating, "In my country, if someone else doesn't have food, I don't eat.  We always share, making sure there is extra for those needing it."
This sharing of a meal can become one of the most important events for a family.  It doesn't matter who is mad at who or how busy we are, we can always come to the table.
So, in my house, we have my grandmother's kitchen table.  I many, many fond memories of that table.  Now, it is where we do homework, pay the bills, play cards and eat.  Last week, it became a place where we prepared and packaged food for another family.