It was the Gathering Place for every moment that meant something—Grandma’s house. Dad, Mom, my sisters, and I would pull up to the old house with the free-roaming ducks, high-strung dog (that only seemed to love Grandma), and the bunny barn. We chased the ducks, avoided the dog, and ran to the barn to snuggle the bunnies. After the animals had been properly greeted, we ran to the house.
The door opened directly into the kitchen where culinary aromas would tease the senses upon arrival. Grandma’s modest kitchen was nothing short of a miracle-making place. The most significant miracle was in the sheer number of people that managed to gather in that house all one time. Or more specifically, the kitchen. And somehow there was always just enough room.
The house ran amok with cousins while Grandma fussed in the kitchen and Grandpa entertained with his Iowa farm-boy banter. It was a lovely place to be. It was the only place I wanted to be.
But there was more. Because among all the blood relations, there was yet another crowd gathered in that kitchen.
In addition to maintaining a bustling extended family, Grandma also worked in a recovery program. Grandma spent time working with desperate people aspiring to overcome addictions of all sorts and when the holidays came around, some of them could not go home. Some of them did not have anyone who wanted them home. And some simply did not have a home.
But Grandma saw fit to make sure there was room at our family table. The old house did not feel so big during the holidays. We often devoured turkey, potatoes, and pies with elbows pressing together, yet hearts overflowing.
There was sweet contentment in knowing that someone had saved a place for me. And not just any place—an incredible place at Grandma’s table, where a feast lay spread in anticipation for all who would come. Everyone at the table was invited and important. Nothing was required, but to come. (Unless you were one of my hunting uncles where fresh deer jerky was absolutely a requirement for the feast.)
There are so many people who do not have such a place. Or maybe you are the one without a place.
Here is the good news: There is already a place prepared, and the invitation has already been given. And there is always room at the table. God looks on you with delight and invites you to sit at His table, breathe in His presence, and taste of His goodness. The one who knows your name has also prepared a feast of extraordinary things for you.
God invites you to come and gather at the table of his unimaginable grace, where there awaits a seat with your very own name. You may come freely. Come expectantly. Come quickly.
As we enter the season of thanks and giving, who can you invite to your table? To God’s table?
“… ‘Let anyone who is thirsty come to me and drink.’ Whoever believes in me, as Scripture has said, rivers of living water will flow from within them.” John 7:37b-38
Happy Thanksgiving, Friends!
Advent is coming! I want to invite you to lean into this meaningful season with The Advent Collection by Hope Books. I am so honored to have been a part of this incredible project. This book is a reflective collaboration of various authors, myself included, and truly is an invitation to pause, prepare, and make room this Advent season. Available for purchase now on Amazon and Barnes and Noble!
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Kelly Havemeier 
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