When Will You Be Gathered Here?

When will your feet be under my table? Always. The important question. Because you see…it means: when will you be gathered here? engaged in deep thought and conversation? eye to eye? with important life shared amidst joy and laughter or perhaps deep heart tears??? When will you sit and have a cup of tea? or coffee? or comfort food prepared? or a new recipe? 

I long for those feet and the people attached to them to share life here. Home. Among family and friends.  Real conversation. Shared life. Demonstration of listening.  So much of life has always been around a kitchen table. 

Gathered together.

As a child for me, it was my safe place.  My comfort place.  Sharing with different generations. Listening.  Laughing.  Eating.  Playing cards or games.  I realize that not all tables are comfortable. Safe. Loving. Or a place to draw you in.  Got it.  I’ve been there.  To friends’ or family’s homes where no one talked.  Manners or perhaps missing manners were the only comments.  And “excuse me” to leave the table was the only tension breaker to freedom.  But in my home, it was the fun place.  Where life happened.  Shared conversation (if you could hear it among 5 children and 2 adults!) of the day’s events occurred.

I think the true foundation of the importance of those times around a table actually began with close friends-like family- to me. 

A farm family whose breakfasts began at 4 am with homemade biscuits, bacon or country ham, and eggs.  Lots of fresh coffee and cooking smells to awaken to…and then after breakfast began the lunch preparation for farm workers who would need a big lunch.  Always in corning ware dishes that went from stove to oven to hold things warm.  Foods I had never eaten before and desserts never prepared in my home that could rarely be recreated with the same consistency or flavor after I began my own home.  Lots of laughter, life and conversation around that table. 

Benefits of being gathered together.

But, more important, was the acceptance gained with those there for me.  And later for my husband and our children.  The peace that rested there.  The contentment that was left in my heart was permanently etched. That’s what was important for me to recreate.  Feet under my table with great dishes prepared and served and great conversation that spoke from the depths of the heart or quiet stillness to just listen when needed.

So, that’s when I am happiest.  When your feet are under my table.  Where there’s always room to squeeze a few more feet under.  Where little ones are excited and older ones grateful.  That’s my heart.  For feet under my table-if for a few moments or a few hours.  It makes my heart grateful and happy.

May you find happiness being gathered with feet under a table with loved ones,