“Company’s coming” meant just ONE thing when I was growing up. A cleaning marathon was underway. We would clean out closets, wipe down baseboards and hang new photos on the walls. We rarely had company and I don’t remember looking forward to yard games or lingering dinners. Just chores.

When Cowboy and I blended our family (all 7 of us!), we discovered the most memorable meals aren’t the perfect ones. They’re the ones where someone spills sweet tea, kids steal chicken nuggets during prayer, and the biscuits burn a little –  but we’re all together around the table.

We were making something bigger than dinner for seven—we were creating the kind of home where people feel safe to walk through the door without knocking and where there’s always room for one more at the table.

I will always prefer Pinterest-worthy tablescapes, but life happens.

So, here’s your guide to a summer of gathering around a sticky table full of food and people:

Start with What You Have (Not What You Think You Need)

Some of our favorite serving pieces are the ones we’ve rescued from flea markets and garage sales— chunky crocks, weathered cutting boards and familiar mason jars. There’s something beautiful about setting a table with pieces that have lived, loved and maybe even been discarded a time or two.

You Don’t Need to be a Chef

An old enamel plate of tomatoes picked up from the farmer’s market, a bowl of fresh strawberries from the you-pick berry farm and some dill pickles packed with love make an everyday meal a celebration.

Set up stations where people can serve themselves—a drink station with mason jars, a simple salad bar, or a build-your-own sandwich spread. When people are helping themselves, they’re also helping each other, and that’s where real community happens.

Make Room at the Table

With five kids, you learn to expect the unexpected. (Honestly, I get nervous now when everything is happening as planned.) Someone brings a friend. Another kid is running late from baseball practice. Nana or Grandpa stop by. Build flexibility into your plans and laugh when things go sideways – because you saw it coming anyway.

Those unexpected dinner guests and last-minute additions were teaching our kids (and me) that there’s always room for one more. Kids who grow up knowing they can bring friends home without calling ahead, learn that interruptions aren’t intrusions. It’s a chance to welcome others into our story and home.

The goal isn’t a magazine-worthy meal—it’s creating space for the people to feel loved. 

What I couldn’t have known during all those chaotic dinner hours is that we were creating the kind of home that kids—whether you gave birth to them or not—carry in their hearts as the place where they learned what belonging feels like.

The meals don’t have to be perfect. The house doesn’t have to be spotless. Your family doesn’t have to look like anyone else’s. You just have to keep showing up, keep making room, keep choosing connection over perfection. Because years from now, when those kids are grown and dealing with their own heartbreaks and celebrations, they’ll know exactly where home is—and that they don’t need to call ahead.