The Dinner Table, Holy Ground

By: Averi Whitman

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My mom has always invited others in. There was always a reason to gather – to celebrate.
We grew accustomed to friends and strangers filling our home on Sunday evenings. Now, my mom has many, many talents, but cooking is not one of them… yet, the people came back… every sunday like clockwork, they came back. Why was that?

I realize now how privileged I was to live in a home that so graciously welcomed others in and so gently invited one deeper. My mom is not the perfect hostess. We tease her about not seasoning her dishes enough or making the same things over and over again, but we keep coming back because she makes us feel invited, thought of and known. She is safe. Her home is a safe place for many – simply because she extends the invitation. 

A safe place…I recognize that many of us have never experienced this. We’ve been hurt by our homes, our knees are scraped, and some of our wounds feel too deep for healing. We don’t know how to create a safe space because one was never modeled for us. It leaves us feeling incapable of inviting others in because we don’t believe we can be safe for others when we never felt safe ourselves.

I can show you how to decorate on a budget and give you tips for throwing a dinner party all day long. But if we aren’t first and foremost safe, if we don’t first learn the importance and sacredness of inviting others in, then what is the point of it all? 

When you are invited into someone’s home for the first time, what feelings are dancing around your mind? Excitement, anxiety, or maybe even fear? It takes bravery to show up and walk through the door. No matter how extroverted you are, stepping into someone’s home – their safe place – requires vulnerability. 

Think of the amount of times you’ve walked into someone’s home full of anxious thoughts. Think of the times where you walked out of that home with a weight lifted. Smiling and thankful for a chance to connect over a shared meal. As women – as humans – we were not created to do life alone. Community is ingrained in our very being. So when we walk out of someone’s home, the warm feeling that hits us… it’s what we were made for. 

So please hear me – you do not have to prove yourself or set the perfect table or find the best recipe. You don’t have to have a pinterest-worthy home or enough seating in the living room. 

The sofa can be sacred.
The dinner table, holy ground.
A home, full of wonder.

This feeling – the warmth in our bones, the weight lifted – it begins with us. We get to decide to break the chain. When we open the door to our homes, when we invite others in, we are making a choice to become safe for someone else. We are asking people to step through the door with vulnerability. That’s all it takes. Getting brave enough to send an invitation, to say “I would love for you to come have dinner with me”.