If You Could Choose Five Dinner Guests….

The age I was when my mom passed away. That would be a great dinner to see her again.

Five dinner guests. That’s the prompt this week for the Friday Five linkup here at Mrs. Disciple. Tough one.

If you could chose five people to have at your dinner table, people who cannot physically be there in reality, whom would you choose?

I am a perfectionist. I could take days deciding the precisely right five. But that would be counterproductive. I have a talk I give on letting good enough be good enough. So I have to take my own advice. Don’t we just hate that?

So without overthinking it . . .

1 and 2. My mom and dad. I was going to add my two sets of grandparents whom I never really met and be done, but then I thought, that would get pretty tense. I have the idea that relations between my parents and their parents weren’t all that rosy. And I don’t need that drama at my dinner table.

But I would love to know why things were not rosy. I would treasure sitting there and listening to their stories. Stories they never told. Was I too young, or were they? Were they so young when the stories happened that they never wanted to talk about the times they wished had never been? Like the war, or the first marriages, or yes, the parents.

I’d want to see the love in their eyes for one another, a thing I never really paid attention to when I was a kid.

I would introduce them to their three granddaughters. I think they would be proud. I think my dad and oldest would find themselves a lot alike. I think my mom would find all of us a tad too freewheeling for her comfort zone. Not to mention the fact that we’d all most likely be religious fanatics in her eyes. I wonder what she’d say if she knew her daughter grew up to be a preacher lady? I truly don’t know.

And I’d like to.

She’d probably clean my house, though. There’s a plus.

#3. Casey. The young man we took into our home and hearts who passed away 1590a-393376_273421972702629_943581585_nfrom a heroin overdose. I’d want to go back to a dinner we shared. I’d warn him about the last day when he would want to try heroin one more time. I’d impress on him that one day when he would want to walk out of that treatment program in anger, he should not. I would want to beg him, “Please don’t make me perform your funeral. I’ll never be able to forget it.” And if it didn’t work? I’d just like to tell him one more time we love him.

We’d all like to tell a lot of people that, wouldn’t we?

Spending Ourselves
I would so be using this mug.

#4. J.R.R. Tolkien. This should be a no-brainer to anyone who knows me. I want to pick his brain. I want to hear him speak elvish as the originator of the language. I want to drink in the imagination and the wisdom that seemed so effortless but which I know was not, considering the time it took. I can hope some of the patience (and talent) sink in by osmosis. I want to just listen. And maybe I’d show him the pictures of our gingerbread Minas Tirith.

Plus, I think he would have a fascinating conversation with our final guest.

#5. The Tenth Doctor. Hey, no one said we couldn’t invite people who don’t actually exist. #10 is my favorite. So, he’s the one who gets to come.

Really, though, the theological intricacies of Dr. Who fascinate me. This particular incarnation of the Doctor interests me the most, because he learns and lives so much of turning the other cheek, loving your enemy, and always giving another chance. Always. I’d want to talk about that, and how those values came about in a person who has seen and done much and lived too long for it to be anything but lonely and heavy. Somehow it wasn’t. We could all learn more about that.

And I’d get a selfie in the tardis.

An interesting dinner table. I’d love to see who would talk to whom. Whom would you choose, if you could?

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