Write Your Story Blog Series
Prelude:
I started to write "Are You A Crumb Eater?" about 5 years ago and forgotten about it, until recently when I was perusing some of my old documents and found it hidden in an old folder. I wondered to myself why I never took the time to finish? When writing the last 10 paragraphs, I knew the reason why, life experience. The past few years, I have grown to appreciate and accept the role as the "guest of honor" who enjoys inviting others to feast with me at the table.
Hello, my name is Jenny Chamberlain and I am a recovering crumb eater. It's a confession that I do not take lightly, actually it is very hard for me to confess this in writing to the world.
Yep, I was once a crumb eater and good at it too. Never mind the big portions of a hefty feast, when the question was asked "Would anyone like to volunteer to eat the crumbs?" I proudly raised my hand without haste, impatiently waiting for the first crumb to fall on the floor so that I could intercept it like a linebacker beating off my competition.
It wasn't even about the taste of the crumb, because it was way too small to invoke my taste buds. Nope, my intentions were to barely feel every millimeter of it at the tip of my tongue, trying my best to savor every bit as if it were ambrosia from heaven. But that was difficult you see, because it wasn't even a morsel to savor. It was a crumb and you can't even feel it land, it disintegrates before you even have a chance.
As each crumb fell from the table onto the floor, I waited patiently with my legs crossed, lifting my head up trying to get a glimpse of what the feast was like. I badly wanted to know what the feast eaters were experiencing as they devoured the delicacies and delights before them, not realizing all I had to do was stand up to enjoy all that was offered.
I long awaited for the crumbs that were left on the table by its esteemed guests. During the times I felt "bold" enough to rise up from the ground, I quickly stood up to collect them before anyone noticed. I would roll them into the palm of my hand, creating a facade of a morsel to enjoy, feel and imagine what it would be like to have a center seat at the banquet table.
Those, I thought, were good times. The best of times, times of hope and joy. I was always ecstatic whenever I encountered a crumb because I knew when the dinner table was set, I was NOT going to get left out by it's guests. They remembered me, knew of my existence and I was forever grateful.
Then one day, the crumbs were no longer satisfying, I wanted, craved for more. The hunger that was slowly building up inside of me, began to outweigh the pleasure I received from constantly grasping sprinkles from thin air as if I were a hamster feverishly spinning a wheel to nowhere.
Determined to satisfy the longing within my soul, I stood up fearlessly to make space for myself at the table. I no longer waited patiently for an invitation to participate in the festivities.
It was then that I noticed that there was an empty space at the head of the table waiting for the guest of honor. You see, the feast never started, this whole time the attendees nibbled on cheese and crackers waiting for the honoree to arrive.
As I stood there in awe, letting go of the delusion that was previously set before me, I heard the crowd exclaim "You are finally here! We have been waiting for you, don't you know that the feast was made for you?"
As my eyes widened in astonishment, someone took a hold of my hand and gently led me to the empty seat, centered before the audience. I sat there in silence, soaking it all in, those sitting around the table were MY guests. They waited patiently with fork and knife in hand, salivating with eyes wide open as the smells from the kitchen infiltrated the room possessing everyone's senses.
I heard the faint whispers of stomachs "rumbling" which forced me to return to my present state of mind. Smiling from cheek to cheek I softly questioned "The feast was made for me?" heads nodded up and down as I looked across the table. I repeated myself once more, this time with a slight excitement in my voice "You mean to say, the FEAST was made for me!!!??". I firmly pressed my lips together, working really hard to contain myself from jumping up and down in my chair like a 5 year old who was just handed a lollipop. The crowd chuckled at my delight.
"THE FEAST. WAS. MADE. FOR ME." this time I said with bold confidence. "Open the bottle of champagne, make a toast and let the party begin!" I shouted out loud and with that, the festivities began that ended the night with singing, dancing and celebration.
We laughed and celebrated for days, well into the early dawn and slept until noon the next day ready to eat brunch and drink mimosas. I was no longer a crumb eater, but one who shared my banquet and fed others in my presence. At that moment, I decided that no one will ever sit on the ground with legs crossed waiting for crumbs to be dropped from my table.
No.
I would personally take their hand, lift them up and gladly give up my center seat so that they may partake equally in the feast. There can never be enough tables, chairs in celebrating life with others. Once a table seems to be running out of room, we can work together to build a new table. We can build community together.
Thus the scrumptious and delightful taste of life when we realize that we can invite others to sit down and enjoy a feast at our dinner table.
The Question that remains is: Are you a crumb eater or the guest of honor because the festivities have just begun and there is an empty seat waiting for you to arrive.