Who Is at Your Table?

Throughout my whole childhood and adolescence, I always stumbled across this quote on Pinterest. The quote reads,

"There is a seat waiting for you at tables you haven't even seen yet."

And yes, call it cliché, but you also have to call it real.

There truly is a seat waiting for you; there are people out there who will motivate you, encourage you, pick you up, and hold such a deep love for you. People you are already sitting next to. People you may not have even met yet. How do you find this table or sit down at this seat? You know, I have always wondered the same thing, and to be honest with you, I still do not have an answer. I do not think I will ever have the answer to this one because things do not happen my way, but in God's way.

I will say, though, I did not find a community by sitting at home. I did not find a community waiting for others to approach me. And I sure did not find a community by "chance." I find the easiest way to gain a friend, or at least respect from someone, is to be vulnerable. In every encounter, I try to provide a gentle, welcoming atmosphere so that the person feels safe and understood. Because who am I to go into a relationship, giving the impression that I am perfect or all-knowing? Which is the farthest from reality, the farthest. It's not about gaining fans; it's about gaining friendship. At the end of the day, I want my community to know my heart; to understand who I am to my core. I want to understand my friends' hearts, morals, and mindsets. And for these things to happen, we have to be real with each other. Real friendships require real presence: maintain eye contact, actually listen and remember important things, provide advice when needed, check in on them via text or call, and show up. I firmly believe that to create and maintain a community, you have to get to know a person's heart and share yours, as well.

I love my table; gosh, I love my table. I am tearing up even typing that sentence because I will never be able to put into words how grateful and blessed I am that God introduced me to so many wonderful people. People I grew up with, grew older with, and am growing with now. I remember playing on the "Tot Lot" with friends in elementary school after dismissal, screaming my high school's victory song after a volleyball win with some great girls, going on an ample amount of car rides while talking about life and the deepest parts of it, and sitting in prayer with friends who remind me of God's everlasting love. As I get older, I realize life is not beautiful because it is all sunshine and rainbows; it is beautiful because of the people who have walked through it with me.

My table has changed over my lifetime, but every single person who had a chair at one point made me the person I am today. And I think that is why I can't hold any resentment for those who have left, because at one point, those people loved me well. I owe so much to my childhood friends, my high school friend group, every single person I have met in college, and every unexpected friendship God placed into my life exactly when I needed it.

But if we step back and see the beauty of life, things are constantly changing (says the girl who used to be terrified of change), but you are missing the purpose of life if you are still the same person you were five years ago. Change is a part of the process. Sometimes people leave their spot to make room for those who are more fit for your lifestyle.

Let's think of this as musical chairs. The people who know you--and I mean really know you--will push and shove and break all the rules of musical chairs to get a seat at your table because they want to be in your life and watch you grow. Those who are only there for certain chapters will lose their spot through lack of effort. But change the narrative: their lack of effort is not a reflection of your worth; it's because they were never meant to stay for the whole song. Maybe that song was not their vibe.

I used to hold onto every chair, desperately begging people to stay in my life. I used to think losing people meant I was unworthy. But let's be real, what good does that do? The only one who can dictate your worth is the big Man above. He knows exactly who belongs in your life. And there is no flaw in His plan. Trust, trust, trust that He will provide.

Be intentional about who has a seat at your table. After all, iron sharpens iron. What drives you? What kind of life are you trying to build? What values do you refuse to bend even when it is inconvenient? The people surrounding you should reflect your lifestyle. Sit with people who challenge you, inspire growth in you, and refuse to let you stay stagnant. Because sooner than later, you become the conversations you entertain, the standards you tolerate, and the people you choose to sit beside. If you are going to be picky about anything in life, be picky about who has access to you.

So, maybe that old Pinterest quote was right all along. There truly is a seat waiting for you at tables you have not even seen yet. If you had told me I would meet my best friend playing volleyball in high school, or another best friend while working in a restaurant, or another best friend at a freshman year college party, or eight beautiful individuals while starting Run with Christ in Bay City, and so forth, I would shake my head in disbelief. Disbelief that these people are real and want the best for me. That these people celebrate my growth instead of competing with it, that these people pray for me, correct me when I am wrong, and remind me of my worth when life tries to make me forget.

Protect your table. Nourish it. And most importantly, do not forget to be worthy of a seat at someone else's table, too.

As a good friend of mine always says: To have a village, you must be a villager.