The Kitchen Table

I went to visit my Tennessee family last weekend. It has been about three months since my mom passed away, so Kim and I flew over for a brief visit to check on dad and hoped that a family gathering would serve us all well. My sister, Kelly, made the two-hour drive from Nashville with one of her daughters and they stayed in the back guest room. I got the front room and two nights in my high-school bed.

Dad is hanging in there as he mourns the loss of his wife. After promising to love her through all of life’s surprises, he joyfully threw himself into his vows for fifty-six years, savoring every moment they spent together. He knows that they will eventually be reunited but still feels alone in the meantime. A very great love was torn from him, and the wound is raw. God and time will bring him healing. He is keeping his eyes looking forward and doing his best. As always, we are proud of how he is handling it.

Over the course of the weekend, one of Kelly’s other daughters joined us from Knoxville and Preston’s clan drove across town, comprised of him, his wife, two daughters, and his granddaughter. It was great to have the eleven of us together.

The kitchen table is our favorite gathering spot. It starts first thing in the morning when Dad sits down to work his Sudoku puzzle and I drink a cup of coffee out of the McHottie cup I have claimed as my birthright. Ultimately, he reads the newspaper while I favor online news feeds. As others wake up, they join us there, some to eat breakfast while the teenagers merely rub their bleary eyes. Preston always drives over around 9:30am with his younger daughter, Cameron. Everyone else joins as their schedules allow.

Dad has a big house with lots of places to assemble. He has a nice living room, a cozy sitting room, a deck that overlooks the golf course, and a front porch with a picturesque yard. None of that matters though. We always crowd around a four-person table that leaves some folks standing.

The odd gathering spot was Mom’s doing. She spent hours in the kitchen each weekend preparing meals for a growing family but never wanted to miss out on anything. She insisted that everyone who wasn’t helping stay out of her way but within earshot. So we gravitated to the kitchen table. It has been years since she mashed potatoes, but we have held onto the custom.

I suppose that every family has a place that they are drawn to when they come together. Tradition triumphs over convenience as we embrace rituals that represent the best of the times we have shared. Each family is unique in their interactions, and that is part of the reason that there is no replacement for family.

It has been seventeen years since I moved away from Tennessee while everyone else stayed relatively local. Phone calls and text messages are no substitute for a lazy conversation and I miss out on a lot. I don’t know how to be an active part of my niece’s lives and that makes me sad sometimes. I wish I could stop by to help with a small chore or have ice cream with everyone else at Clumpy’s. There are times when I feel the burden of my choices, but while I am at the kitchen table, I am accepted without question.

Everybody needs a place where they are accepted and embraced. We all need a gathering place that reminds us we have more in common than the differences between us. We should guard the sanctuary that makes all of us equals regardless of age, income, community standing, or yesterday’s choices.

Every three months for the past year I could be found circled around a table where no one’s seat is sacred because everyone’s place is assured. It’s not as often as I would like, and I am thankful for the people who love me enough to come together. I will always have a soft spot for that corner of the kitchen, but my heart belongs to the family I share it with.

I can’t wait to see each of these smiling faces again, along with the others who avoided Kelly’s selfie cam. I also hope to build a place deep in the heart of Texas where my own expanding family finds the same comfort.

All of us need a Kitchen Table.