When I look back on formative and influential moments, so many of them come from a kitchen table. Breaking bread, eating chips and salsa, cups of coffee, pours of other types, conversations of all kinds. Kitchen tables hold a special kind of magic that allows for a vulnerability that nurtures and grows relationships in ways in my life that I will always be thankful for.
Thinking back on kitchen tables one that stands in my mind is the Lognion’s kitchen table. I joined them around the table just about twice a week every week for dinner my last two years of high school. I remember my first time having dinner with the family I sat in the wrong seat and quickly got yelled at (and if you know that Lognions you know it was not a quiet, gentle ordeal- but a very loud, aggressive interaction) however, they made a place for me and that seat became my place at the table- in fact, I still sit in the same place when I visit. Their table for me became a place of refuge, a safe place to process life, relationships and a place of constant support- even in the midst of disagreement. When I sat at their table I became a part of the family. I saw the arguments and the grace. I saw the tears and the laughs. I brought my baggage, dumped it on the table and they often helped me sort through it- and gave me permission to throw away the things I didn’t need. It was the first place where I learned that I could be completely myself and that it was enough. There’s so many conversations I think back to around that table. I think about the one time I stayed the night when I was in town visiting. I woke up early and Mark was the only one awake, so I made my way to the kitchen for coffee and chatted with him about life, ministry, the problems with the church. I remember his encouraging words about him believing in me and the ministry I would go on to do, but how difficult it would be. Our last conversation, just the two of us, occurred at the kitchen table. I will forever hold that conversation close to my heart. That kitchen table holds so many special conversations, especially the ones in which I processed life choices, I learned about chosen family and how much power is in a meal.
Another table I think about is the table at Union. Its daily task is to be a community table in the middle of a coffee shop. It has little handmade signs that say, “feel free to sit with me” around it. On Tuesday evenings it becomes the alter. It holds candles, notes, a plastic cup of grape juice and a plate of homemade bread. Though it is the largest table in the space, it is often seen past, it blends into the space around it. People come and play board games, work on projects or homework. Once a month it becomes a place where people create capes that go on to empowering children who are fighting to be their own kind of superhero. The everyday-ness of the table brings us light, life and grace each week in worship. Often, the alter in churches go untouched with the exception of the changing out of flowers at most churches, but not this alter. This alter is lived at, cried at, laughed around- it is a place where community is built.
I have a special piece in my room made from the scrapes of a kitchen table. It doesn’t look like much hanging up on the wall, it’s filled with jewelry and lives next to my closet. It was a gift from Dianna and Jordan. They saw me through some of the darkest days I’ve had so far, they encourage me and make fun of me when I need it. They check in and call me family. I’ve never actually eaten with them around the table my jewelry holder is made of, but it reminds me that I quite literally am a part of an important piece of their family.
The most recent, specific kitchen table moment happened last week. I just started an internship at a church and their meetings happen around a large kitchen table. I have only been with them in this role for about a month, but already I’ve been brought to tears at how much God is doing through this small community. I have sat around the table with strangers and dreamed about ways in which the church can show up for the community, and how we each can play a part in God’s call for the church. It’s a beautiful thing, to watch people who come from all different backgrounds and experiences to drop their dreams, their fears and their vulnerability on a table, asking God to show up and expecting God to work.
I think to the lessons in scripture in which Jesus shows up around a “table”. He flips them, he blesses them, he creates an abundance from them, he sends us forth from them. We need kitchen tables because we need community, we need to eat, we need the support, we need the reminder that we cannot and don’t have to live this life alone. I guess in the end, it really isn’t about kitchen tables at all.
Adventuring Ashley 