When Did the Kid's Table Get Cool?

 

Growing up we always had a kid's table at Thanksgiving and Christmas.  You probably have had one:  the small side table, maybe a folding one with accompanying metal chairs. The little kids sat there, crunched together, just slightly away from the adult table where the conversation always seemed rich and varied.  There was always a magic year when one of us didn't have to sit with the little cousins anymore and you got the China plate and maybe a cloth napkin.   I couldn't wait for that special year when I got to move up to the big time.

 

This Thanksgiving our "kid's table" was filled with 19-35 year olds; cousins who see each other less often; significant others in attendance; college kids talking about study abroad programs, better beer!  There seemed to be more laughter than on our end of the table,  group selfies instantly sent to friends in other parts of the country, talk about new jobs.  A few started playing a dice game and pretty soon the dishes were pushed aside as more entered the game, cousins poking fun at each other in a loving way.  It was as the "kid's table" was gentrified into the new cool place to be, and once again, I found myself wanting to move up.

 

On my drive home with Doreen asleep, I reflected on the evening and came to the realization (for the hundredth time) that it is less about where we sit at the table but the quality of our presence that makes the difference.  In those conversations when I listened to others, when I shared my life, even briefly, I made Thanksgiving a real feast.  I was happy I sat next to my brother-in-law who is dealing with an aging mom 2000 miles away.  I loved hearing about my sister's latest favorite book and her sadness of a friend who has early onset of Alzheimer's.   I realized I wouldn't have wanted to be anywhere else but sitting next to my wife who was just happy her kids were home. However cool the young adults table was last Thursday, my time, my place was at the end of the table where I could be a little more still, listen, and hear God whisper, "You are blessed." 

 

It was there that I was able to give thanks.

 

Peace,

Chris