By Darleen Price

What would it be like to share a meal with a bunch of strangers on Christmas Eve? I knew there would be all kinds of good food to eat. But where would I sit? Who would I sit with? Would my tablemates welcome and talk to me or would I just eat in silence? Was this really a good place to be on this special night?

As many of you know, this past Christmas our church hosted a community event called “A Place to Be.” It was a Christmas Eve potluck dinner advertised for anyone who desired somewhere to be that evening. No matter who you were, where you came from, what you were wearing, or what you believed in, you were welcome here that night.

Dinner was well underway by the time I entered the room. From where I stood, it looked like the serving table stretched from one side of the room to the other. I joined the line of folks filling their plates and bowls, laughing with the hostesses as I scraped up the last dab of a dish that looked really interesting. With my plateful of samplings, I turned to look for a spot to sit and had a moment of deja vu.

Back in the day, I attended an annual convention that brought together more than 1,000 attendees from all over the world. What surprised me at the meal events was that tables were filled with people who lived in the same area, people they could see every day if they wished. An international event—yet they were seated with, effectively, their next-door neighbors rather than someone from around the globe. Not me. My dining companions came from Liechtenstein, Australia, Ireland—anywhere that wasn’t in the Northwest US.

When I looked around for a seat on Christmas Eve, it was evident that a lot of tables were already filled. Many looked like groups of friends. This actually was a plus for me because now I could freely look for people I didn’t know. I would get to meet someone new, hear their story, share a bit of mine. Who knew I’d be reminded of the blessings I’ve received in life.

I found a seat at a table near the door with five folks from outside our church and one recently-met member. What an interesting mix. Two were a homeless woman and her adult son who had been gifted by a friend with a couple of nights in a local hotel. The son had learned about our dinner from the New Hope homeless resource center downtown. Three were an Asian family and friend with their baby who had driven down from Kent after learning about our dinner by searching the web for just such an event.

This was so different from Christmases past for me. Some of my favorite childhood memories are from when my parents, brother, Grandma, and I would all share a Christmas meal together, then move on to the opening of gifts. Only one person at a time got to gently peel back the tape on a package, being careful not to tear the paper which would be neatly folded and saved for next year. It seemed to take forever, especially when things like batteries or a hairbrush got wrapped separately, disguised in a big box. Yet I remember the gratitude that filled the room—even for the goofy gifts. Gratitude for being warm and fed, and for just being together on this special night. Sometimes Grandma would tell us about her experiences as a volunteer at the Seattle Union Gospel Mission and the interesting people she met there. I don’t think she ever met a stranger. Hmm, I wonder if she had any influence on me. But I digress….

These new acquaintances welcomed me to their table with hints about what I should look for at the dessert table since I had arrived after they’d had the main course. Conversation was light and easy from there. We didn’t discuss the meaning of life but rather things to which we all seemed to relate…the dinner, the season, the weather, the high cost of everything. We just chatted and laughed together. A bunch of people who didn’t know one another at the start yet who broke the ice, found common ground, and spent an enjoyable hour breaking bread together.

I know Grandma would agree—this was a great place to be on this special night.

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