38 Remembering Mom

There isn't much of my Mother in me, but I noticed just a bit today. A group of women at church have decided to formalize their relationship and will begin meeting for study and fellowship. At this time, there are about 9 and they haven't all met. I offered to fix dinner for them at our home on Valentine's Day so they could get acquainted and do some planning, and as far as I know, the inaugeral event is on schedule.

As I was running through the routine in my mind--preparing the food, setting the table to look festive and welcoming, clearing the table for dessert--I thought of the years my mother offered her farm home in the country as a religious retreat for small groups (she didn't live there). She would set the table with white linen and china and prepare delicious "comfort" food to serve in the large, gracious dining room with a fire place and floor-to-ceiling, built-in china cabinets designed by my grandmother in the first decade of the last century. Mom thought it was great fun--particularly the way people enjoyed family style eating in a lovely setting. When I was younger I didn't quite see my mother's joy in this, but I think I'm starting to catch on.