I loved hearing those words from my mom. It was time to ready our table for guests. It was time to make it look lovely. To get those refined things out of cabinets, hutches, and drawers and lay a table. I would open the doors to the hutch and the wood smelled different when it was open than when it was closed. It is a smell that still lingers...I think...I would sit there and stare at all of the lovely things that only got to come out on special occasions, and I would imagine what it would be like to lay a table of my own someday. I would imagine the guests. The attire. The food. How I might do it differently from my mom, but secretly knowing I would try to emulate every last detail like she was teaching me.
See what I learned from my parents is that opening your home to family, friends, and even those you don't know is truly an important thing. It was a good thing to learn about which silverware to use, and even dare I say stemware. Mom and dad knew that it honored the Lord to open their table to others. So we did. Often.
I remember Thanksgivings with over 40 + people in our home. Most family. Some friends. And usually someone who was alone, and didn't have a place to go found their way to our table. It felt kind of weird as a kid to have a stranger in our home for such an intimate thing as Thanksgiving, Christmas, or Easter...but I saw courage in my parents when they did it...I pray that I find that courage as an adult also.
There is a fondness in my heart of laying a table. Deciding which napkins to use. How to fold the napkins. Maybe choosing a way that would surprise my mom and she would think it lovely. Preparing the butter dishes. The jelly dishes. Getting out Granny's cobalt pitcher for water. Opening the drawer that had the silver all rolled up in towels. Spreading them out and looking at loveliness. Maybe talking with Daddy about what music to play on the record player. Lighting candles. Watching mom hand out tasks and responsibilities. None that at the time I loved to do...or even honestly now love to do...but the result of creating an environment where people feel comfortable, engaged, respected, welcomed...a place that is different from what they experience out "there".
I didn't know when the day would really come for me to host a family dinner in our home. How old are you when that begins to shift to the next generation? I didn't know. And somehow it fell into our laps this year. We welcomed it. And watching Caroline...it all came back about why it is so important to do this. I need to teach her, Wyatt and Hope about what it means to host. About what it means to welcome others into your home and to put your best that you have before them. To do it with excellence.
What a privilege it was to have my mom go with me to choose the table decorations. To buy placemats, and napkins...to think through how many table servings I have...to think through details of where children would eat and feel a welcomed part of the table. Because see I grew up learning (that is an important word) about what it was to listen to the patriarch of the family talk....and talk...and talk. But I heard those stories, or talk of politics, religion etc and I learned what it was to sit at a table and talk. We couldn't get down as soon as we were finished...we learned to listen. I learned at an early age how to eat off of china, use silver, and by gosh use stemware. So...I set a table for children to be mixed in with adults and to hear the conversation that comes from the aged. I sat children at tables with adults to learn what it is to listen and to use lovely things...special things...
Last night as Jason's family...now mine...gathered in our home I was so excited to have them in our home. I felt as calm as I ever have hosting them. This isn't my normal temperment when hosting...I am usually freaking out...maybe it was having mom there. Telling me all along that she was loving watching me be a woman. Wow...to hear those words...amazing what that does to your heart. To have your parents approval even as an adult. Very important. But Jason's family gathered in...I felt I was able to give out tasks to the other ladies as I needed help. I felt like a hostess. I felt like that part in me as a little girl who dreamed of hosting her own table came to fruition last night. Even Granny's cobalt water pitcher made an appearance. A gift, along with the matching water, and wine glasses from my mom to now have in our home as we host family, friend and stranger.
Mom's don't be afraid to ask little hands to carry the china (I am sure I broke some dishes over the years). Don't be afraid to serve little hands stemware. I learned to sip at an early age. Don't be afraid to show little hands how to host...because those little hands will grow...and you will be able to hand them Granny's cobalt water pitcher...and tell them they are a lovely woman.
