To Paul and Janet Wynne and their open table...
All are welcome at this table.
The structure itself has changed through the years but the invitation remains.
All are welcome at this table.
Holidays were peppered with faces not familiar belonging to one's with family far off or simply no place to gather.
All are welcome at this table.
The place settings have ranged from efficient to elegant, the menu as well, but the hosts beckon all come, sit, be home. As hands are held, prayers have lifted from this surface to the Creator of all things.
All are welcome at this table to break bread and drink good wine, common graces of the Father. They gather here to share stories of triumph and tragedy, to shed tears of joy and righteous anger. It knows no segregation but rejoices in unity. This table has exceeded its capacity again and again because all are welcome.
In the absence of feasts, it's served as a plane for wedding invitations, grandson crafts, and jewelry parties. It lived against the wall for a bit while the floor was covered in blanket pallets as we gathered in its presence to mourn a loss of our own. Even then, we knew to gather. It's met new loves, connected old friendships, and bore concerns for the brokenness of the world.
As a beautiful, tangible display of the Gospel, all are welcome at this table.
I have a table of my own.
Its size is proportional to my hope for its use, purposeful. Already it has held the weight of friendship and family. It's heard conversations of hope for the future and sadness of the past. It's facilitated board games and held gifts to celebrate new matrimonies and births. Lessons of life and of art have begun to take place around its edges.
Still quite young in its service, I pray for the future of my table. May it collect gatherers such as the one of my youth. May the wood absorb the prayers of the saints and tears of the weary. May all who assemble around it know the love and peace of the Father that far exceeds any understanding. May it be known that all are welcome at my table.
