Why Every Woman Needs a Table of Friends

By Denise Scott
I have come to believe that every woman needs a table.

Not because she needs somewhere to eat, but somewhere to rest things, somewhere to put things down, somewhere to lay things out, somewhere to sit with friends and somewhere to belong.

Some of the holiest moments in my life haven’t happened inside a church. I have often felt the presence of God in the presence of women that I now call friends. They’ve often happened around a restaurant table, over Shandy Caribs wrapped with white napkins, pina coladas that lacked their signature sliced pineapple and Maltas poured too quickly that too much froth comes to the top. I have spent some of my most defining moments in restaurants eating and laughing so loud, that I was afraid they would ask us to leave.

I believe that there is something deeply healing about sitting with women who know your story. Not the polished version you post on social media. The real story.

The one with unanswered prayers, unexpected detours, children who worry you, parents who are ageing, careers that didn’t quite go according to plan and dreams that are still quietly waiting in the wings. Around a good table, nobody must pretend and they can still laugh.

I have spent the last few weeks thinking about the amazing women who made me realise how blessed I am. As women, we spend so much of our lives looking after everyone else that we often leave ourselves at the bottom of the list. That’s why friendships aren’t a luxury; they’re a necessity.

Yesterday a friend made me laugh so hard, I cried. Two nights ago, my friend’s daughter did her nails and insisted she send me a photo at about nine in the night. Another friend saved her birthday cake to share a slice with me, and another recommended me to assist with an organisation. One friend called to talk about her mother’s dementia and her terrible job and her lovely daughter on three-way call with another friend who was making guacamole while we laughed. Those are amazing blessings.

Those friendships are treasures. They remind us that we are not alone. Sometimes, we help one another up with practical advice. Sometimes with prayer. And

sometimes with nothing more profound than laughter that leaves us clutching our sides.

God knew we would need community.

Perhaps that’s why tables still matter. They become places where loneliness loses its grip, where hope is quietly restored. When someone says, “You’ve got this,” just when you need to hear it. In a world that often tells women to compete, compare and keep up appearances, a table of genuine friends invites us to do something far more beautiful. To simply be ourselves.

So this week, I want to make a suggestion. Call a friend. Better still, call three. Choose a little café, your favourite breakfast spot or even your own dining room. There doesn’t need to be a special occasion. Life itself is reason enough to gather.

Order the coffee (I prefer chai in case you’re interested). Share the stories. Laugh until people at the next table start smiling too. Pray, if someone needs it (someone always needs it). Celebrate, if someone has good news. Cry, if someone has had a difficult week. And when it’s time to leave, make sure everyone goes home a little lighter than when they arrived.

Because every woman deserves at least one table where she is loved, where she is known and where someone always says, “I’m so glad you came.” I have a feeling that’s exactly the kind of table Jesus would choose.