our kitchen table

by joy soaked words

My mom is the most hospitable person I know, she opens her home to anybody who needs a hot meal, or a warm bed to sleep in for a night. I don’t think there was ever a time that she has turned someone away, because in opening her home, she is loving whoever walks through our front door in the best way she knows how. My mom is a lover through the art of hospitality, and I hope that I can love to the exent that she loves one day, opening my home like she does so often.

My parents have also instilled in us the importance of sharing a meal together, coming together to break bread together. Our kitchen table is in the main area of our home, it serves as a beacon of family and comfort when life is feeling like a chaos of appointments, job schedules and music lessons. As a family, we make time every single day to come together and sit at our table, usually over a meal, but sometimes a card game or two.

The kitchen table that we all grew up eating around, was a table that my dad had made. A labor of love, through his gift in woodworking. That table was full of memories sitting around, laughter and joy echoing off it’s scratched surface. My parents bought a new table, made by an amish woodworker a couple of years ago. Knowing the importance of how my mom loves, they bought a table that can be extended to fit 20 people around it. Fully extended, it basically goes to the other end of the living room. It takes people by surprise every single time they walk into our home for a large gathering.

I think that in Heaven, there is going to be a table that fits every single person at it, because that’s how Jesus loved while he was here on earth. Breaking bread, sharing a meal. He loved in ways that people didn’t understand, turning 5 loaves of bread and 2 fish into enough food to feed 5000, with leftovers. Jesus’s mission here on earth, was a labor of love, loving in the best way he knew how. Being there alongside his followers, healing the sick and sharing the good news.

My parents have shown me how to love others well, through our kitchen table. Love doesn’t have to complicated, it’s knowing a few recipes that go over well with a crowd, and opening your home, even when you don’t want to.

People have walked into our home, and said that they feel at home. That is the kind of atmosphere I want to create when I own a home. A kitchen table full of memories and scratches from dishes being passed around the table.

Thank you, Mom for showing me the importance of a kitchen table.

Thank you, Dad for building that first table, through your labor of love, I have learned how to love others well through good food and laughter.

njl.