First, gather your thoughts, your courage, your composure. Collect them like a late-autumn bouquet of chrysanthemums, pluck them up like the last roses before the frost. Dress yourself in finery; put on kindness, wear a crown of peace on your head and never take it off.

Knock on the door, ring the bell, or just walk right in. These are your people. Or they once were. Or one day, they could be.

To gather, a table and chairs are nice, but not necessary. You don’t need fine china or a fancy tablecloth. This is where we break bread. Give thanks. We gather to love and be loved. Mashed potatoes don’t hurt.

To gather, you do not need talking points, icebreakers, or conversation starters. Instead, bring your curiosity, your wonder, your grace.

Pass the salt, slice the pie, feel your cheeks warm with joy. 

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