My niece, Emma, and I tried to talk my sister Barbara into hosting a family gathering on Memorial Day.

No go.  Persuasive though we both can be, Barb had recently returned from an extended overseas trip and had a sick cat.  She was also angst-ing over personal health concerns and was toying with the idea of throwing a bigger gathering in a few weeks to celebrate her wedding anniversary (48, I think) and Emma’s 22nd birthday.

I guess it was time to step up. I offered to host a small family barbecue and gave her only one assignment — to bring dessert. Knowing that she could top Baker’s Square or even Whole Paycheck’s bakery with something she could find in her freezer made this an easy request.

I took a few moments to consider what I had gotten myself into.

I guess company’s coming.

Recently, I have been in the habit of calling a few friends on an impromptu basis to join me for a simple dinner.  Maybe we’d toss hamburgers on the grill and watch a Netflix offering later.

I never gave these types of get-togethers much thought.  I know my friends have no expectations.  They always try to bring something to share.  These dinners are all very informal.

Because my sister is such a wonderful cook and often opens her house for holiday dinners, I took the role more seriously.

On Friday, I bought wine, beer, and sparkling water so that I could have beverages well-chilled when my guests arrived.  I put freshly laundered towels in guest bathroom.

Actually, I gave my bathroom a good cleaning like I do when I host my book group.  When I clean the bathroom, it’s not just a situation of expecting friends to drop in.  This seems to make the idea of having company official.

Unlike my sister, who seems strives for perfection, I aim for comfort.

I want my guests to be comfortable in my home.  I want them to feel welcome; well-fed and listened to.

Living in a modest apartment for most of my adult life, I rarely stepped forward to host.  Since owning my own condo, featuring central A/C and two toilets, and now able to afford wild caught salmon to grill on my Weber (on cedar planks, no less) appeals to my pride, but I feel that my approach to entertaining probably hasn’t changed much over the years.

Yes, there’s always more than enough food.  (I’m just now considering who I can invite for leftovers.) I’m more than happy to receive whatever guests want to bring.  (I recognize and consciously give space to how much people want to contribute to sharing a good time.)

But the idea of company has many levels.

A popular online dictionary defines company as “The fact or condition of being with another or others, especially in a way that provides friendship and enjoyment.”

Apparently, the term comes from an old French military term for “body of soldiers,” which comes from the Latin word, “companion,” which translates into “one who eats bread with you.”

The idea of eating with people that you belong to is a strong association.  Sharing food is a big part of our contemporary concept of having company.  Certainly, it’s a key part of mine.

But, in my spiritual practice, I’ve also been thinking about being in good company with myself, or appreciating being in the company of the truth.

I was happy with how my dinner party went.  My rice salad, prepared without a recipe, got rave reviews, and I made chimichurri sauce for the first time. Also a winner.

Barb made a wonderful peach tart and others brought nice additions to the cavalcade of edibles.

But, as we sat around the table, talking about plans for the summer or experiences we had since the last time we shared a meal, one of the quieter members of the group relayed how she was victim to a recent scam.

It was a small group, but the fact that she felt okay, that she felt comfortable enough to be authentic and vulnerable in my house felt oddly gratifying to me.

Having even a small part in creating a safe place is no small thing.