Come to the Table

"Come to the table", she says. "It's time to eat."

I heard those exact words many times growing up. And by table, I mean my grandmother's table.  And when she called, we came a-running.  We knew that our eyes were going to see a delectable assortment of goodness, and we had been waiting for it.  

It was all about the table. That's where good things happen.  That's where children get to listen to adult conversation and pretend not to.  That's where you pass food around the table and ask, "Would you like some?'  That's where you wait until everyone is seated and pray together--as a family. 

 The table. Where you learn to sit with your hands in your lap and use a napkin properly.  It is at the table that somewhere between sitting down and asking to be excused you learn that life isn't always fair. But you still go on.  That there are hurting people in your world, that you need to help. You figure out that maybe, just maybe life does not revolve around what YOU want.  

My grandmothers table was a sight to behold. She made grilled-cheese sandwiches look good.  Which may be why tomato soup and grilled-cheese is my go-to comfort food. Her table smelled good. Her table was put together with love. You could tell by the REAL napkins and silverware. She would iron the table cloths and napkins before she used them. For her, it was an act of love and kindness to put a meal together for the presentation. And we did not take it for granted.  Even in my selfish childhood, I knew that something good and lovely happened at my Nonna's table.  

"Come to the table".  Perhaps the last time I heard her say that was when she had fixed a loaf of banana bread, which is Holy and Sacred to our family. Every single one of us have that recipe, but I don't know that any of us make it like hers. We liked going to her table. We always received more than we deserved there. 

"Come to the table" is music to my ears. With it comes delightful smells and vivid recollections of colors and textures that I don't often see.  And conversations. The kind of conversations that last long after the meal is done. The table can be cleared and food put up and still we would sit around the table. Somehow, it made us closer to each other. Some how the bonds were tightened into chords that are not easily broken.  And then, no one would want to leave the table. Things made sense there. Answers were given and life suggestions were made.  

I loved the table.  Over the years, there were many tables in our lives, but it didn't change the fact that at the table, moments were being made. Sitting in the chair around the table I felt perfectly loved and secure. It was in those moments that God, Himself showed me Who He was. And Is. And always would be.  

Today, God is saying, "Come to the table". 

He is there at the table, waiting. Waiting for us to listen to what He is saying. He has prepared the table, prepared the meal, prepared the way and all we have to do is pull up the chair and sit. Sit down in His Glorious Presence and abundant outpouring of love.  And listen. Listen to His Goodness. Listen as He tells us of His Grace. Hear the words of life that He pours over us.  

If we come to His table and bask in His Glory, I guarantee we will never want to leave. 

Pull up a chair and have a seat. There is goodness to behold.