Won't You, Come Into My Kitchen?

You appear at my door. You have come to visit. Walk past the debris. The family might leave shoes about, maybe it is book-bags. On some days, you might find my hubby laying on the couch. Shelter your eyes and continue past the day-to-day paraphernalia. It is just the business of living.

Come with me, to the kitchen.

You should find comfort there.

Tell me, is there anything that I can get for you......anything at all.

Take a seat, it is cushioned for your comfort. Help yourself to the fruit or the candy in the bowl. It is there for just for your taking. It is an offering, meant to relax you and make you feel welcome.

You, are wanted to feel welcome in my kitchen. That is  among its purposes.

Would you like coffee or tea, both are ready for you. Sugar , cream, lemon are there for the taking.  Are you hungry?  I can make you a sandwich, there is soup, would you like to stay for dinner?

It is hard to be angry while breaking bread together. Eating together will unite us, coaxing us to get to know one another.

Tell me, how have you been? What is on your mind today?

There may be interruptions, but a simple, " I am visiting", and the family will scatter. They will know the conversation is private. They will enter only into an open discussion.

They understand.....this is my kitchen.

This is where the home is made. Here, love is born. Secrets shared.  Shattered pieces are picked up inside this room.

They have each visited me here. They have been fed. They have been scolded. They have been encouraged and counseled.  Questions have been asked, dreams and fears revealed.

They have told me of intimate things with such a coolness, that it was I who did not at first understand.....

My eldest sat there on that stool, as I diced onions and announced:

" I started today"

" Started what, your book report, your English essay"?

" You know, Mom, I started"

It hit me.....my daughter has crossed a passage......I would be thankful for the counselor who aided her in my absence.

Another child, another day............buried her head into the table and sobbed. She was not given to easy tears. I was afraid. She had captured my undivided attention.

"What is so bad the matter, that it makes you cry", I asked.

"Mama, I was mad at Miss Tucker, and I wrote a bad poem"....( please, use your imagination, what would a 4th grader say about Miss Tucker)

This poem was ugly, and I was shocked at this child. It could not be undone. She was sobbing, her remorse was great. I simply stroked her hair and encouraged her to apologize.

Her own guilt was more severe than any 'punishment' I could administer. My daughter was forgiven at this table.

I was sitting in the living room when she came in. She had waded through snow to get here. She knew she had defied me. She knew now, that her mom had had her safety at heart. She knew she had caused damage beyond her ability to repay. She knew she would be asking her mom to leave the warmth of the home and brave the ice and snow. She knew, mom would be the one who would hook chains to the wrecked vehicle and tow it home. She was perpared to tell me, to face my wrath, she was prepared to hear the lecture, learn her lesson and make her apologies. She also knew........as she stepped through the back door.......to call

" Mom, will you come to the kitchen"?.......

He is not a man accustomed to defeat. He is more at ease with outlining choices and giving instructions. It must have been very hard for him.................

" Would you pour us some coffee and sit down"

" k, here I am"

" I lost my job today"

" that's a hard hit".......mentally calculating the bills and obligations.........

' my quarterly bonus will be coming out soon"

"yeah, but that was for you"

"honey, that is for us, the family.....we'll get by"

" I want more for my family than to 'get by' "

" sure, but ALL we HAVE to do is eat and keep the kids warm'....

" we will live on what we have, if we have to, we have bonds"

" you are a good wife"

" whatever that means, I just 'do'"

Secrets are revealed at the kitchen table.

So are fears.........

I am the wife, and the mother. I will feed you. I will comfort you.

I am your neighbor. I will welcome you.

I am a member of our community, I will assist you.

I am your friend. I am the woman down the street and the one next door. I am your counterpart, a world away. I will wipe your tears. I will contribute to your rebuilding.

You simply need to walk through the house, and come to my kitchen , taking a seat at my table.

We will expose ourselves. We will share. We will confess. We will encourage. We will get to the heart of the matter. We will love and and lead one another. We will build lasting friendships.

I will listen to your counsel....

We will laugh here. We will laugh at our husbands, our children, our bosses, our neighbors, ....We will laugh here, together, at our own foolish selves.

Laughter, tears, worries and hope will be shared by all who enter here.

We will confide our shortcomings, and learn of common fears.

We will trust they will be protected and guarded for they found their voice, here in the kitchen.

We will share life lessons.

We will mourn broken dreams, giving life to new ones.

Won't you please, come into my kitchen?