Panic coursed through my veins. And that’s no surprise; it’s one of the scariest situations a human can live through:

The first lunch period at a new school. In fourth grade.

I thought I was going to be in the clear. You see, my new teacher, Mrs. Berkowski, had assigned me a “buddy” for my first week so I could learn what to do in this new and strange school, meet some people, and feel a little less awkward. (When, really, aren’t fourth graders primarily made up of awkward?)

As I grabbed my Happy Days lunchbox with The Fonz giving me his double thumbs up, I started to follow my teacher-assigned buddy, Valerie, and her group of giggly friends to the outside lunch tables.

Once she realized I was following her (maybe a little too closely), Valerie turned around, blocked my path, and said, “You’re not sitting with us. I only have to be your buddy during class.”

I am still convinced, to this day, that there is nothing that can hurt a soul more than cutting words from a nine-year-old.

So, The Fonz and I went to sit at an empty metal table so I could eat my PB&J and sliced carrot sticks without bothering anyone else. I understood my place, and it was alone.

I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes. I hung my head and bit the inside of my cheeks to keep from crying in this new place. I didn’t want anyone to see me break down. It would just be one more reason to not belong.

Hunched over my lunch, trying to become as small as I possibly could, I didn’t notice a girl walk up to my side, but I did hear the words, “You can sit at my table.”

And that’s when I had to keep from crying again — this time from relief. I gathered up my food and carton of milk, and The Fonz and I joined Brooke and one of her friends. For the rest of the lunch period I hardly talked. I was just so grateful to be sitting at the table with other people instead of alone.

And now, any time someone:

• asks me and my husband out for lunch after church
• brings a meal to our house when one of us is sick
• sets up a coffee date
• shares the eggs their chickens laid
• invites me over for dinner,

I remember that feeling.

The feeling of not being alone anymore.

The feeling of “come sit at my table.”

The feeling of moving from “weird new kid” to “part of the gang.”

The feeling of belonging.

What my fourth-grade little heart longed for, and what my grown-up self recognizes now, is that my friend Brooke embodied the words of Jesus in Matthew 25:35–40 (NIV):

“‘For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’

Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’

The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’”

That simple invitation to “come sit at my table” changed more than just a lunch period. It changed my understanding of kindness, connection, and the profound role that simply sharing a meal plays in our lives. It reminded me that even the smallest gestures, like offering a seat or sharing food, can have a life-changing impact.

It did for me.

Food has always been more than sustenance; it’s a universal language of love and community. When we break bread together, we nourish not just our bodies but our souls. Every shared meal becomes an opportunity to say, “You are seen, you are valued, you belong.”

In a world where loneliness often whispers in the quiet moments, extending a hand — and a meal — can turn isolation into togetherness. Let’s be the ones who scooch over and make room at our tables, the ones who see those sitting alone and say, “Come, sit at my table.” Because when we do, we meet a double need: we feed the hunger and form the connection.

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If you’re looking for a way to easily love the people around you with nourishing food, plus incorporate meaningful rest into your life while taking care of your future self, order Kathi’s new cookbook, Sabbath Soup: Weekly Menus and Rhythms to Make Space for a Day of Rest.

Sabbath Soup would make a great Christmas gift for all the women on your list. The book includes over 100 recipes (not all of them soup), reflective prayers, and strategies to take a day of rest every week.

When you order before October 12, you’ll also receive access to Kathi’s “Sabbath Soup Shortcuts” to help you get dinner on the table with a lot less effort. Redeem Your Preorder Here.

Place your order to get your freebies. . . AND also enter to WIN one of five copies that we’re giving away! Leave a comment on this post telling us about your favorite way to spend your Sabbath or invite someone to your table and be entered to win.

Then be SURE to tune in to the (in)courage podcast this weekend for a heartening conversation with Becky Keife and Kathi Lipp, all about real hospitality and more. Listen in on your favorite podcast app!

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