At My Table

I love the holidays. I love the way small towns and big cities decorate with little white lights. I love everything from pumpkins and fall colors to Christmas trees and snow. It's a time of year meant for families and friends to get together—it's a time for shopping, wrapping, eating, baking, good food, laughing and it's a time of year for memories.

In years past we hosted most holiday meals at our house. We had space and I loved to entertain, so it was a match made it heaven. I would cook and clean for days. I'd bake and work on menus and I thoroughly enjoyed every moment of it. Sometimes we'd have as many as 30 people--there were friends, family, in-laws, and kids running amuck and I loved it all.

But several years ago we moved to the midwest and there were just the 5 of us around my table —no friends, no extended family, just us. We'd make the food and decorate the house, but to be honest, we were a little lonely. And then our little family began to grow. First with our son-in-law, followed by our first grandson, then our daughter-in-law and so on. My table began to grow again, slowly. There are now 8 adults, 4 children and another on the way!

Over the next few years, I discovered something—I didn't need the holidays to bring about those feelings of warmth with my family. No, all I needed was my table.

Now when our kids come to visit and we sit down at my table, I like to have music playing softly in the background, I light the candles, have a fire going, set the table and as we sit there having dinner something happens. The fun begins. The telling of tales. It's hilarious.

They begin to rat each other out. There's the mom, guess what he did when you were gone, and there's the I'm telling mom. And the mom when you were gone she used to... Remember, they're all married with kids of their own now! And yet, this has become an important ritual in our home.

Then there is me yelling through my laughter, you're grounded, you are in sooooo much trouble.

We all sit around laughing, sharing stories and eating. My family. Do they know how much I love them? In those moments, I feel so much pride. Not the bad kind of pride, the good kind. The kind that catches in your throat when you have a heart so full of love.

My husband and I will often steal glances at one another—after all these years together we can share a thought through a single look. It says, aren't we blessed? 

Altogether, my family, at my table.