I grew up in a small home but with big love. We didn’t have a formal dining room, rather a spot between the kitchen and family room where a space was created. My parents had a round oak table, barely big enough for the four of us, but because of the leaf we could fit any extras. That four legged table served many purposes– homework, crafts, playing cards, talking with friends but most importantly it was the spot where we ate dinner.    
 
Some of the best life lessons were learned at that table. Long, deep conversations were chewed out and other nights it was a 15-minute scarf and run. While it ebbed and flowed, the amount of time didn’t seem important. Sometimes it was the best 15 minutes of the day.  
 
I believe my family’s roots became entrenched around that table and it was the glue that connected us to each other. It allowed us to unwind, share, bond and catch up. It was the hub and the heart of our home. 
 
Here are a few lessons I learned from dinner time around that old oak table:

* People matter more than presentation.
My mom is a terrible cook (she wouldn’t disagree), but providing a safe space for others to feel important and comfortable was her forte. There was no “ambiance” and rarely a tablecloth, but no one cared. “Come as you are” was the table’s motto. 
* Everyone is welcome.
Anytime a friend was over, they were invited for dinner. There was no such thing as a stranger. I have no idea what the record was for the most people we squeezed around, but I assure you it was high. We pulled up bar stools, ottomans, folding lawn chairs, boxes, stepping stools… and it worked. What mattered was that everyone had a place at the table. 
* Full attention goes far.
As we got older and activities got busy, we often ate in shifts but my mom sat with each of us. We had all of her. She wasn’t on her phone, watching TV, or texting a friend– she was tuned into us. She wanted to know about our day, our friends, our lives. I feel like half ass attention is almost worse than no attention, but she lovingly gave her full attention. Giving our families our undivided attention is an investment into the people we love most. It says you matter.
* You are responsible for your own shit.
My mom wasn’t the kind of mom who allowed us to get up and leave our plates on the table. That didn’t fly. You ate on it, you put it in the dishwasher. You made a mess, you cleaned it up. You spilled, you wiped it up. We were taught to handle our business and that it was our responsibility to do our part. 
* Meal time is not argue time.
My parents were notorious for snipping at each other. They pecked at one another like a couple of hens, but never at the table. Eating together and arguing would ruin the purpose of gathering together, so they managed to keep their snips away from the table. It was noted and appreciated.
* Stay aware of what is happening. Both of my parents read the newspaper and would talk about it at the table. To this day, my brother and I love to talk about world events and current issues. Critical thinking was fostered and cultivated and it brought value to being informed about what was happening in the world we live in. 
* You don’t have to finish everything on your plate.
My mom grew up in a house that forced you to finish everything on your plate. She vowed to never belong to the Clean Plate Club. She let us self-monitor and decide when we were full. We were never forced to eat or finish if we felt done. We learned to honor our hunger and listen to our body. There was no shame, guilt or punishment around food. 
* Eating together is more than just satisfying our hunger.
Sharing a meal is about nourishing your soul as well as your body. Sitting across from one another facilitates contact, connection and community. When we enjoy each other’s company, we become more patient, respectful, attentive, and caring. 
* Family matters.
My dad would get annoyed when someone called while we were eating. He often told us not to answer and if it was important, they would call back. Whoever was on the end of that call didn’t matter as much as the people sitting around that table. Protecting and appreciating family time was clear. 

In today’s day and age, everyone is so busy. We overschedule our kids hoping they become well-rounded good students, successful athletes, musicians or dancers, but we forget that lessons learned at the table have the same amount of value as lessons learned from projects, practices or books.

Maybe even more. 
 
While our oak table was never fancy and often cluttered, it was also full– full of laughter, love, celebration, debating, education. It was full of who and what mattered most. It was full in a way that reminded us of where we came from and who was in our corner. It was full of hidden moments of grace and invaluable life lessons. 
 
Small house. Big love. Family forever. 
💛💛💛