This is a place that's like home to me..

“This is a place that’s like home to me, for it’s all I have. The people give me hope and the will to go on...A Place at the Table” 

A few weeks ago, I found a handwritten note on my desk. Well, it looked like a note, but it read like poetry. And before I even got to the signature, I knew exactly who it was from. 

“There have been days I feel like I can’t go on. I come to this place and my troubles are gone.” 

Billy has spent years in and out of shelters. When he came to Table, it was clear he wasn’t here for the food: he was looking for community...community he could actually help create. After all, at his core, Billy is a creator--of poems and drawings, but also of relationships. So he dove right in, giving everything he had to shape the community that had welcomed him. 

“A Place at the Table... where I am greeted with a smile, lighting my day no matter how dreary outside.”

Unsurprisingly, Billy’s favorite job is door greeter. You know why he’s great at it? Because when he welcomes you, he means it. 

He once pointed out to me how unfair it is that Josh and I get all the attention. Those folks back in the kitchen that you rarely see? Billy sees them, and he wrote them notes to tell them so. 

I can’t even tell you how much it meant to me to find Billy’s note on my desk that day a few weeks ago.  Because part of Table’s mission is to be a place where everyone feels seen. Billy was telling me that he feels seen here, and so he is able to pass that gift along to others. He helps sustain the place that sustains him.

 And that, Table family, is the mark of a community that’s doing what it’s meant to do. 

Spring is in the air, and you know what that means? Warmer temps, pollen (ugh) and...more space at Table! We’re so so close, y’all. We’re expecting to wrap up construction in May, and you’ll be the first ones to know when we’re ready to throw open the doors and cook all the things. 

You make it possible, friends. You create a space where our community can sustain one another. Every single day.  I’m so deeply thankful for the ways you make our community what it is. 

Gratefully, 

A quick introduction to a new monthly feature, by its curator, Susanna.

Table family, think for a second about what you feel when you walk into the cafe. It’s special, right?  There’s anticipation of delicious food, of course. There’s warmth. But there’s also a challenge to extend a wider welcome...there’s a fresh lens on the way things should be. 

It’s a capital-G Good feeling. And I’ve wished for a while now that I could bottle it up and take it with me. You know--so it could settle in my bones a bit. Inform my life in concrete ways. If you’ve wished that too, then we’ve got a treat for you. 

Our newsletter, Tending the Table, has a new addition: Extending the Table. Each month, we’ll offer a few ideas for things to read, listen to, watch, or visit that embody the spirit of Table. 

These aren’t endorsements or paid ads or anything--just ideas from the Table family about how we can all keep a Good Thing going, even when we can’t be physically present at the cafe. 

If you’ve got ideas for media that embodies the spirit of Table, please email: susanna.klingenberg@gmail.com. I can’t wait to hear from you. 

Without further ado, here are your ideas for this month! 

The Civil Conversations Project from NPR’s “On Being” podcast

This series of podcasts and online resources extends the Table by exploring “adventurous civility”--different approaches to talking and loving well across divides. You can listen to the wisdom of folks like Brene Brown, Ruby Sales, and Ta-Nehisi Coates, and get practical advice for putting that wisdom to work.

The NC Museum of Art’s current exhibit, Faith and Community

This exhibit extends the Table by exploring one way of “affirming sacred worth, restoring human dignity, and sabotaging the shame of poverty.” Drawings, portraits, and studies are by Asheville artist Christopher Holt, who worked with the Haywood St. congregation to create frescoes reminding viewers that “What poverty makes invisible, art makes immortal.”