The Table & The Light

I quit.

I’m done clawing my way to a table, rejected but knowing in my heart that everyone, even me, deserves a seat.

Scraps aren’t enough to keep me going anymore.

No amount of hard work will get you to a table where you don’t belong.

People sit pompously at this table wearing the crowns that they created for themselves.

Showing off the jewels, full of colors and vibrancy set in fake gold.

Weren’t crowns supposed to be given by the King?

Everyone knows the crowns that men make never sustain.

I see them look around the table.

Instead of meeting each other’s gazes, seeing the weariness and pain, they quickly bolt left and right trying to find what they can grab to put on their own plates.

They’re loud, each and every one of them.

They ask much of the ones like me…probably because I beg to be noticed.

I try to be as small as I can so that maybe, just maybe, I can squeeze in and sit next to someone.

But they never make room.

They only try and take up more space so that their table forever remains the same.

Day after day, I try finding new ways to be seen.

Racking my brain on how I can be seen as significant to them.

Up in the early morning, drifting off to sleep, brainstorming.

Maybe today they will value me.

Maybe today I’ll be heard.

I keep telling myself:

Be small.

Be quiet.

Be adaptable.

Be positive.

I know I’m “needed” though, because they constantly ask of me.

They sit there with their manmade crowns looking down at me to say,

“Grab us the salt and pepper.”

“Remind me of the vibrant colors on my crown.”

“Hand us all the fine china.”

They ask of me, so I continue to think I’m valued by them.

Needed.

Wanted.

But every day I lose more of myself.

Never invited.

Never seen.

Never appreciated.

I’m starting to see the truth.

As I turn to hang my head, I see a glimpse of bright light in the distance.

I turn my energy away from the constant struggle to be included.

I get up and start making my way to the light.

I briefly look back and it saddens me to see so many others trying to be made small, just so they can squeeze into a place at the table.

The more I walk towards the light, the more I see the world.

The bigger picture.

The thousands of people who want to be noticed and loved and seen and valued.

Just like me.

I walk faster.

I pass by the hurting and the broken.

All trying to make their way to the table which is now in the distance, a part of my past.

I tell others to turn around.

Come this way with me!

Come to the light.

I warn passers of the table where the rich wear their man-made crowns.

I tell them no matter how hard they try and how much they push, they will never be accepted by them.

Some believe me and start to walk with me while their head remains low.

Almost as if the idea of the table was their only hope.

I keep going.

I begin to notice I’m not alone.

There are stragglers following behind.

I’m further away from the table now and it almost feels like my time there was a different life.

Who was I?

Why was I so insecure?

Trying to be so small and just fit in when I was made for something more.

The closer I get to the light, the more expectant and excited I am for what’s next.

Everything is unknown.

From the next step I take, to the light I see in the distance.

Yet, I feel peace.

When I arrive at the light, I see what looks like a table that in unending, going on for miles.

The most beautiful floral arraignments.

Flowers I’ve never seen.

Smells I’ve never smelled.

Decorations I could never imagine.

Unrecognizable colors and lights.

This is marvelous. Unmatched. Breathtaking.

I am in awe.

I tilt my head down, and there before me was a crown on the table.

It read, “Nicole, victorious heart.”

The crown was like nothing I’d ever seen before.

You could tell it was precious, went through the fire to become such a glistening gold,

The jewels around the crown held weight.

As if each difficult season in my life created a spectacular jewel.

Jewels of His grace.

I had never seen something so beautiful.

So personal, so rare.

I slipped it on.

The perfect fit.

A tear of belonging slips down my face.

I whisper, “I must be known here.”

As I wipe it away, I notice more people coming.

Each person who turned away from the table and came to the light was overjoyed.

They found their place.

They found their people.

They found their strength.

Their hope for life was renewed.

They were valued.

Maybe some for the first time.

They finally understood WHOSE they were and why they were here.

They were His, and His alone.

Their crowns were all shining brightly, not because of anything they did or created, but because of the refining, the sanctifying that happened in their life.

When no one noticed, He did.

Our King did.

And we all felt that.

It was beyond validating.

He saw me the whole time.

We began to share our stories of strength and pain. Of tragedy and joy.

When we were in the middle of tears and soft smiles, He came.

There was the King.

With kindness in His eyes, but a declaration of action, He said, “Put on your crown and go. Go back and bring more to fill these empty seats. Everyone is welcome here and we have more than enough for each person.”

This wasn’t a table. It was eternity.