Crowded Table

My new favorite song is Crowded Table by The Highwomen.

You can hold my hand When you need to let go I can be your mountain When you're feeling valley-low I can be your streetlight Showing you the way home You can hold my hand When you need to let go

I want a house with a crowded table And a place by the fire for everyone Let us take on the world while we're young and able And bring us back together when the day is done

My younger brother is the type of person who can meet a stranger and, by the end of a 30-minute conversation, has solidified plans to visit their summer camp. I am the type of person who, even after being told by a friend to stop by anytime, still has an unusually high amount of anxiety about imposing for an impromptu visit. It's more about whether I am truly wanted than whether I'm being impolite. I've gotten more comfortable and do trust a few people now, but it took a lot of work.

Once my children entered school, I acquired a new type of social bravery, and it has proven so rewarding. My objective in cultivating a warm community for my children gave rise to beautiful adult friendships with other parents. One of my greatest goals is for my children and their friends to always feel comfortable coming to our home. They are welcome and safe here. My table is their table, and there is always a place by the fire for them.

Last night we hosted a little pizza party for a few friends. I'm not sure if these people know how grateful I am for their friendship, but I hope so. They showed up, with their kids, on Good Friday, just to hang out with us. I felt, and feel, incredibly honored. And I felt relaxed, too, no emotional hangover, no worries about what I should have said or done. One child lost their shirt, another child pooped their pants. Someone wore a lion costume. The dog stole a pizza slice. One parent skateboarded with my son, another listened to my daughter's script. I read Mercer Mayer to a tiny person while they used the potty. I felt safe, I felt loved. It felt like family. My son came out to the kitchen and twirled in one of the dress-up skirts; the other parents complimented him. I didn't feel judged by the other parents when he needed screentime. I think it was such an easy night because we all could be ourselves.

I know I'm not perfect, but I feel accepted in my imperfections. I don't feel alone, and I feel my children cradled by my community's love.