Everyone has an ideal of what their perfect table would look like. Long, round, wooden, plastic, short, standard. Subconsciously, we put our expectations into the way we live–how our community will gather around that table, or the accomplishments that will be achieved thanks to its invitation to sit.
Many have found virtual tables to be where they feel they belong. Or perhaps you feel as I do, that it’s taken over a decade of social media to acknowledge that physical tables and in-person community reap greater benefits than the elusive invitation of a social platform.
In my new life roles, I’ve found there to be a freedom in being able to choose my activities and no longer feel guilt over not attending things I had no real interest in. It’s part of my personality to enjoy the shedding of unwanted obligations. I can’t much apologize for how God made me–though it’s taken me all these years to figure that out.
Bottom line is that my hope for you and me this year is that we can step away from the crowded tables where we pushed our way in and hoped to find community or acceptance and didn’t and create a table that is filled with the ones we love and some new faces too if that’s what you want and need. You do the inviting or uninviting. If you don’t need a certain type of drama, don’t ask them out of obligation. Most importantly, you need to feel that you belong at that table with no squeezing or convincing or invitation-showing necessary.
Some of us don’t need bigger tables right now. You don’t need to push yourself to accept diversions or get busy in hosting and inviting in an effort to make others feel a welcome you never had. You need to heal and find community that in time will grow with you organically. Be free to allow that of yourself. Enjoy the welcome, love, and freedom of the small table that might raw and unfinished. Maybe someday you’ll move to that huge ornate table you long to be at right now. Or maybe you’ll find you’re right at home at your own table. It can’t be better than that.
