I'm Gonna Sit at the Welcome Table

This Sunday after church I had lunch with my visitation team. Every month we are given information about any new visitors to our congregation and make it a point to call, visit, or send a card to them. Then we get together and share a meal and talk about our visits with each other. It’s great way to make sure visitors are welcomed and invite them back.

We sat around the dining room table sharing with each other, and before I knew it, we had been there for three hours, talking, laughing, and fellowshipping. It was one of those fine, beautiful little moments in life where you are simply content.

The rich storytelling tradition of the south wove around us, and I felt like a kid again absorbing all the dialogue.

“And she was dancing with a guy and then he let go of her and she slid across the room and under a chair…”

“And when we honeymooned at DisneyWorld they only had two hotels…”

“And I don’t have any curtains on the windows because of the country-living, you know…”

“And I laughed so hard coffee came out of my nose; took forever to stop smelling like Maxwell House…”

“And so he told me he was tired of the ‘Jesus-is-my-boyfriend’ songs and wanted some old hymns…”

I could have sat there for a lot longer, listening and sharing with this group of people made up of different ages and backgrounds, bound together by our commitment to Christ.

One of these days…