For This House
Every Season. Every Space. All for Him.
Every Season. Every Space. All for Him.
January 5, 2026 | 4 min read
Reanna Hoffmann
The kitchen table was laden with food—enough to feed at least twenty people. The sides alone filled the fridge, and another table overflowed with desserts. The living room was spotless, and a candle flickered in the bathroom. Everything looked perfect—and I had ten minutes to spare.
I had prayed for this opportunity. An opportunity for all kinds of people to gather at my table—to share food and tell stories of God’s faithfulness. To celebrate the good and mourn the hard. To provide a safe space for my people to simply exist.
I waited for the doorbell to ring as I hurriedly grabbed extra napkins and cups from the closet. I kept waiting as I wiped down the counter for the tenth time and fluffed a pillow. I checked my watch. Maybe I got the start time wrong? I pulled out my phone and checked the invitation.
No, I was right. Everyone else was just late.
Another fifteen minutes passed before headlights flashed across the front window. Finally—a person.
My friend walked through the front door, profusely apologizing for being so late. She told me about the traffic, how her oven refused to bake the rolls, and how her grocery pickup had the wrong brand of tea. Once she stopped to take a breath, she looked around.
Her eyes widened in confusion. “Where is everyone?” she asked.
I checked my phone again, though I already knew there were no new messages. The screen was still empty.
I shrugged, trying to play off my disappointment. “Maybe they’re just running late,” I said, though I wasn’t sure I believed it. We waited a few more minutes before I told her to go ahead and fix herself a plate.
I slipped into the restroom for a moment. Staring at my reflection, I tried to keep my tears from spilling over.
Did I say something wrong?
Am I a poor cook?
Did I miss a memo?
Why did only one person come to dinner? And what am I going to do with all of this food?
I took a deep breath, splashed cool water on my face, and steadied myself before returning to the kitchen. As I reached for the doorknob, a verse came to mind:
“I have called you by name; you are mine.”
—Isaiah 43:1 (ESV)
In that quiet moment, I remembered what truly mattered. What others thought of me didn’t define me—and honestly, my spiral of insecurity didn’t either. God sees me. He loves me. I am His.
When I sat back down at the table, something shifted. My worth wasn’t tied to how many people showed up or how perfect my dinner looked. Now all I wanted was to simply be present—with my friend and with God.
We ate together, shared stories, and talked about how the Lord was moving in her life. I listened to her heartaches and her hopes. I celebrated the redemption and restoration she’d seen in her own story.
A couple of hours later, she packed up to leave. I sent her home with enough leftovers for the next three meals—and a pie. As I waved goodbye, I thought back to my expectations for the evening and what had actually unfolded.
The Lord knew my desires—and He had better plans. He provided exactly what I needed. And hopefully, exactly what my friend needed too.
Maybe you know the Woody Allen quote, “If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans.” Friend, maybe God’s best moments happen when our plans fall apart.
That night wasn’t wasted—it was sacred, because He met me right where I was, in the middle of disappointment, and reminded me that I am always seen, loved, and cared for.
Lord,
Thank You for seeing me when I feel unseen. When my plans don’t unfold the way I hoped, remind me that You are still present at my table.
Teach me to rest in Your timing and trust that Your plans are always good.
Help me to find joy in what You’ve provided and to love the people right in front of me well. May my worth never rest in numbers or outcomes, but in the unshakable truth that I am Yours.
Amen
Reanna Hoffmann is a writer, speaker, and podcast host passionate about helping young adults stand firm in their identity, grow in community, and live with purpose. She’s the author of Not Just Waiting on Substack and the voice behind the Me & Re podcast.
Reanna Hoffmann is a writer, speaker, and podcast host passionate about helping young adults stand firm in their identity, grow in community, and live with purpose. She’s the author of Not Just Waiting on Substack and the voice behind the Me & Re podcast.