A Place at the Table Read Online Free PDF

and Daddy’s bedroom at our house, and at Meemaw’s house, and at the home of Hunter’s best friend, Dixon, who doesn’t seem to be so much a friend as he is a person for Hunter to trade punches in the arm with.
    Still, it bothers me that Hunter has a best friend and I do not.
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    I guess he doesn’t count as an actual friend, but I love spending time with Mr. Morgan. Unlike the other RA leaders, Mr. Morgan has all of his hair and he wears jeans to meetings instead of pleated khakis or Sansabelt slacks. And Mr. Morgan has green eyes and a dimple in each cheek when he smiles. He was in ROTC in college, just like my daddy. Later, Mr. Morgan served two tours of duty in Vietnam. He still does push-ups and sit-ups each morning. When he flexes his biceps it looks like there’s a tennis ball beneath his skin. He tells us it is important to remember that our bodies are our temples and we are to honor them by doing stuff like eating our vegetables, brushing our teeth, hugging our mamas, and exercising every single day.
    I always try to stand next to him during the closing prayer, when we gather in a circle. Sometimes I can’t help but grab his hand if it happens to be hanging by his side, idle. He’ll give my hand a little squeeze, but then he’ll pull away. But he never pulls away meanly. It’s just that his hands are busy: He has to clap to get our attention, or point to one of our craft projects hanging on the wall, or dig a Certs out of his pocket. Once Hunter noticed me reaching for Mr. Morgan’shand and he started pointing and laughing all wild like a hyena. “Look at the little girl!” Hunter said, and I dropped Mr. Morgan’s hand, fast. But Mr. Morgan scolded Hunter, not me. “I’m ashamed of you,” he said. “Bobby is not only your brother by blood; he’s your brother in Christ. And we don’t make fun of our brothers in Christ, not here and not anywhere. Now who’s up for a game of Go Fish?”
    He wasn’t talking about Go Fish the card game. We were fishing for Bible verses. In the center of the room Mr. Morgan put a kiddie pool filled with water. In the pool were a bunch of sealed plastic Baggies, each with a Bible verse typed on a sheet of paper and a weight inside. On the outside of each Baggie was a bunch of metal paper clips. We took turns with a fishing pole made of bamboo with a magnet attached to the end of the line. We’d dip our line in the water, and whichever Baggie it pulled up, that was the verse we were to memorize for the week. Everybody was always hoping to get “Jesus wept,” but no one ever did. I figured Mr. Morgan didn’t even put that one in there—it was just too easy.
    To join the RAs you have to memorize 2 Corinthians 5:20: “We are Ambassadors for Christ.” And that is just the start of all the scripture you have to learn. Each year we get medals depending on how many Bible verses we memorize: Twenty-five gets you a bronze medal, fifty gets you silver, and seventy-five gets you gold. Troy received a gold medal and the RA Bible Award during his final year, when he was not only a Crusader but also a Knight. I am a good memorizer, like Troy, but Hunter is terrible at it. He can’t see his letters right. He’ll just stare and stare at the little slip of white paper until Mr. Morgan comes over and reads it for him. Then Hunter tries to repeat whatever Mr. Morgan said. Usually he gets the words wrong. Like the time his quote was “Iron sharpens iron, and one man sharpens another.” Hunter said, “Iron sharpens man and one man irons another.” Everybody got a good laugh out of that and Hunter’s face turned red, butMr. Morgan gave him his M&M anyway and said weren’t we lucky that we all had mamas at home to do the ironing for us.
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    My favorite part of RAs is making craft projects for Christ. Today we are making testimonial license plates for our bikes. Mr. Morgan gives us all rectangles made out of plywood with two holes punched out of