Who is Missing from my Easter Table?
Easter is such a tender day. Children remember the eggs and chocolate bunnies, but as we mature we learn that Easter begins with remembering death and suffering before we remember forgiveness, mercy, new life and love.
Today I am remembering my Polish Grandma, Magdalene. Who came to the US with adopted parents, her own parents having died in a flu epidemic. Sometimes I would sit with her for afternoon coffee. Of course, we always had a cookie or a piece of cake to share as well. She taught the art of welcoming. “It doesn’t matter what you have, always treat the visitor with kindness. If all you have to offer is a piece of bread and a cup of coffee, offer that,” she would say.
Our community has been so blessed to welcome to our house, not far from where Grandma and I shared coffee—people from China, Peru, and Colombia, --people of Lakota, Navaho, and Mohican nations, people who are African American, Turkish, and of course people like ourselves of European descent. We sit a bit with each one. Then I remember Magdalene as we share a piece of bread and a cup of coffee and learn from each one.
Who has taught you the art of a piece of bread and a cup of coffee?
Joan Duerst OP