keep your fork.

after dinner fork - Siena, Italy 

There's a moment that happens, without fail, at dinner parties. It happened last night at my family's Thanksgiving, and maybe you've encountered it, too. It is a moment, in this season of my life, that is true and real and has a weighted significance. After the main course is finished, when bellies are full and wine glasses near empty, when laughter and stories are louder than when the meal first began, that's when it happens. When the dishes are being cleared and lingering utensils and glasses litter the table, there's always the question, do we keep our forks for dessert? Or will we get a new fork with the next course? The answer, in my opinion, should always be yes. Yes, keep your fork, because that means less to clean up later. Not to mention, keeping your fork makes sense. Something more is coming, usually something sweet and delicious and worth the wait. Keeping your fork means immediately digging into the next course.

Keep your fork, there's more to come. 

I love the idea of keeping your fork. The first time I heard about it, I was a sophomore in high school. It was maybe one of the four times I attended a church service while I was in high school, and the pastor was talking about this idea of keeping your fork, that there's more to come in this life. The idea has stayed with me for years.

Keep your fork. It happens at dinner parties, yes, but it's so true of life as it's unfolding around me right now, in this moment and this season. Anticipation. In-between. Wondering what's to come. I feel full in the best possible ways, like I've just consumed a hearty meal at a dinner party. In the last season, I've taken in, consumed, listened, learned, watched, helped myself to first and second and sometimes third helpings of certain challenges and struggles and lessons. There's a newly made space inside of me for all of the experiences, people, and places that have been meaningful and powerful and will stay with me for the next course. Meanwhile, I am surrounded by amazing people, laughing and sharing stories and life with me. Around the table, I envision the people I've leaned on, who have poured into me, who have helped and sometimes hindered and in some way shaped the person I've become through the last season.

All the while, I am holding tightly to my fork, anticipating what's to come. What will the next season look like? What's the next course? Will it be sweet? Bitter? Delicious? Worth the wait? Worth the hype? Is it worth keeping my fork? What even is my fork?

Right now, I am trying to figure out my fork. What am I really taking with me from this season into the next? And how am I going to use it once the next course arrives? Am I holding my fork like a dagger- on the defense and ready to attack whatever comes my way? Am I laying my fork on the table, only to be picked up and used timidly after the course arrives? Or maybe I'm holding it upright, ready to dig in and jump in when the next course is barely set on the table?

Tonight, I am a lot of questions and not a lot of answers. I am thinking, but not yet finished with my thought. I am pondering, and I am okay with that. I know that the next season, the next course, the next part of my story ... is approaching quickly. I don't feel ready for the dishes and the utensils and the glasses from this course to be cleared, but they are surely being removed from the table, leaving me in nervous and joyful and excited anticipation of what's to come.  During this time, I want to hold tight to the truth I have learned about God's character and the way He loves each of us. During this time, I want to enjoy the company of the people around the table, laughing and sharing old stories and anticipating the ones to come. During this time, I want to acknowledge transformation, that in struggle, the only way out is in and through. During this time, I want to hold onto the idea of bittersweet, that life is never all of one thing, and that the bitter and hard and challenging moments have just as much weight in our lives as the very sweet moments. During this season of anticipation, I want to experience and know life to the full; full emotion, fully alive, fully present. I want to reminisce and remember and make new memories right here and right now and look ahead at the changes quickly approaching with joyful anticipation.

I find it ironic, as I finish up the last few sentences of this post, that dinner is being set on the table right now, and I will be reminded once again that keeping your fork is not only the best moment of the meal, but at the very core of this season of my life.

What's the meal you've just eaten? Who is around the table with you? What's your fork? What are you keeping as you move into the next season of your life?