using the good dishes

Is there a more universal love language than the one spoken at a family dinner table? I think not. The women in my family are known for loving all of us with spectacular abandon and no restraint at Sunday or holiday dinner tables.

Often those meals are served on the good china, with a table set carefully, practically and lovingly from farmstead kitchens. Lace tablecloths and seasonal centerpieces. Gleaming china and old silverware carefully arranged. The glassware is mismatched, and the kids table has tiny forks and spoons; high chairs and seats with boosters fit for the little ones they will hold. Handwritten placecards assign your seat, and give you permission to gobble that tiny chocolate bunny or turkey set beside your plate. The table embraces all who sit around it. We pray, with gratitude for the many blessings we are able to enjoy.

Next come the platters of tender ribs, sliced ham or roasted chicken. Golden bowls of corn or green beans frozen at peak last August to appear on precisely this table. Baskets of fresh rolls, with a pot of handmade jam and dish of soft butter nearby. Steaming, creamy mounds of mashed potatoes, tender cubes of stuffing, and the the silky gravy to marry the whole beautiful plate together. And the pies—oh those pies—cooling on the countertop nearby, waiting for anyone to have the ability to take another bite.

These are the tables set for all of us by generations of creative, dedicated, loving Glewen women. And we love them back.