The Most Special Dinner, Ever

It was the most special dinner table we ever set, we didn’t know each other’s language.

The air was thick, the ocean clapped against the shore in the distance and the wooden benches scraped our thighs. We just met our new friends 4 days ago - this was our last night before going home and wanted to do something special. Our hearts connected where words could not. Eyes danced around the table and laughter rang out as we jumbled through broken language. Clumsily we took turns trying to teach the other songs we knew. But the feeling was sacred, more holy than any conversation. An African fabric was rummaged up for the runner and greens from around the property clipped for make-shift flower arrangements.   Mugs were used in the absence of cups. We passed the plates and feasted, savoring each bite knowing tomorrow we would be worlds away - and the moments hung still. Time was on our side as we clanked glasses and yelled - amooche (I spelled it how it sounds)- our new friend’s native word for cheers. We did not know each other’s language, but as the glasses were raised they knew in an instant what we were doing and taught us that amooche means family. Surely we were, our hearts knew it, on that very special night we were family. I believe all of Heaven cheered too, as we clanked cups - a symbolic rejoicing in His blood poured out for us, that one day we would have a seat at the table He has set for us. And until then, it will quite possibly be the most special dinner table we’ve ever sat at.