She hadn’t been gone a week.
We sat silently at the kitchen table, bravely trying to ignore the lonely, empty chair between our boys. We picked at the blueberry muffins—just out of the oven—and wiped the tears that trickled down our cheeks.
Somehow, we knew Sunday breakfast would never be the same.
Tracy, our only daughter, had gone to college.
The circle had been broken. Nothing would be the same.
Looking back on that morning so long ago, I think we somehow understood, quite painfully, that something familiar, precious, comfortable, and meaningful—an essential family ritual, our family ritual—was changed forever. We were heart-broken and I don’t think I am overstating this. It was more than just missing a beloved daughter or a sister. It was more than missing the playful, weekly squabble over who found the muffins with the most berries. I think we were grieving the loss of life as we knew it, our pretty happy family system, a system that often circled around shared meals together. The void, the change, hit us hard that first Sunday breakfast.
You see, eating together as a family had always been a top priority for Kenny and me. When we said “I do” and “I will” nearly fifty years ago, we both somehow understood that to also mean “I will eat with you forever.” Looking at the two of us, you can see we took those vows quite seriously!
The family mealtime had been the practice of both of our families of origin, so we naturally adopted this comfortable pattern. As our children joined our family, eating together continued to be a valued priority. Early on, though it wasn’t always practical or even possible to share every meal, dinnertime was often the highlight of each day…for so many reasons. Around the table, we prayed, we were nourished, we chatted about the happenings of the day, we asked questions, we looked each other in the eye, we touched each other, we talked about current events, we planned outings and vacations, we shared disappointments and fears and dreams, we advised one another, we ironed out schedules, we told jokes, we established expectations and rules, we meted out discipline and punishment…we did life.
Sometimes it was light-hearted and fun; other times, it was uncomfortable and hard. Sometimes it went well; sometimes it flopped. Sometimes it was at a fast food joint or sometimes at a fancy restaurant. Sometimes it was lunch and sometimes it was breakfast. Sometimes it was steak and sometimes it was peanut butter and jelly. But mealtime together was always a place for communication and connection. It was a place of incidental training and the passing on of significant values. It was a place for our children to learn to recognize and then thank God for all our blessings. It was a place to learn good manners and respect for each other, a place to practice healthy eating habits, a place to learn to listen well and speak up, a place to figure out relationships and authority structures, a place to be heard and a place to belong. A place where no one could hide and walls would come down. A place of safety and unconditional love.
I know, as flawed parents, our mealtimes weren’t always perfect and helpful and grand. I don’t want you to think that. But we battled and struggled for them none the less. Their importance was our firm conviction, especially as the kids entered their teen years. Because of crazy job schedules, sports, meetings, youth group, church, friends, homework and the like, it was hard work, an almost impossible dream to sit down somewhere to eat at the same time. But it was a war we were willing to wage. We wanted to stay involved in their lives, to have a voice, to be connected. We took advantage of nearly every flimsy opportunity we had. And we could almost always count on Sunday morning breakfast with blueberry muffins before we headed off the church. I can almost taste them now…
Statistics and articles from the worlds of psychology, education, and medicine confirm what we have believed for so long. Family meals help children thrive in many areas of life including academics, nutrition, mental health, lifestyle choices, and the list goes on. And now that we are old and Kenny’s gray (smile) and all our chicks have long flown our coop across the map, a family meal, rare as it is, is our fondest desire and greatest joy. There are twenty three of us now; we need a much bigger table and a whole lot more food, but what a blessing!
So I was stopped short reading through Acts this past week in Acts 2:46 and 47. I loved the reminder.
46 Every day they continued to meet together in the temple courts. They broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts, 47 praising God and enjoying the favor of all the people. And the Lord added to their number daily those who were being saved.
This scripture passage is right after Pentecost, the day the Spirit of God ignited the early church with power to turn the world upside down. Three thousand people trusted in Jesus Christ that day and every day after, others chose to follow Him too. So many new Christians who needed to be taught God’s Word and needed fellowship with God’s people if they were going to grow in their faith and become effective witnesses! What a huge job for the early church! The leaders of the early church desired not only to make converts; they longed to make disciples. So they gathered at the Temple each day for instruction and prayer. As Warren Wiersbe says, “Their Christian faith was a day-to-day reality, not a once-a-week routine.”
But this is the part I love. After the teaching time, they went to each other’s homes and ate together. Like a family meal! Nourishment. Discussion. Sharing. Laughter. Questions. Answers. Relationships. Encouragement. Communication. Plans. Problem solving. Belonging. And they were glad and sincere. They praised God. They enjoyed the favor of ALL men. Their love, unity, honesty, and generosity were winsome and attractive to those outside the community of believers. Curious, more and more folks desired to come learn about this Jesus, the Savior of the world. God sent more and more people their way.
Yes, I am persuaded that our wise God really likes the idea of family meals. I believe the brothers and sisters in the early church did too.
Around the table, strangers become friends, defenses are lowered and skeptics are disarmed. Families are built, friendships are built, people are built, churches are built. People are loved. God is revealed. Yes!
But I also am of the conviction that the practice of family mealtime, of sharing a meal together with others, is nearly obsolete, out-of-date, old-fashioned. It certainly is on the endangered species list. Even though we read the world’s statistics that affirm our biblical patterns, most of us give in to the esteemed cultural pressures of busyness, self-centeredness, simplicity, comfort, independence, and privacy. Exhausted from our packed-out schedules, we pull into our driveways, rush in our front doors, and lock them tightly against any interruption. We pop in a frozen pizza, turn on the TV, and kick back in our lounge chairs as we scroll through FaceBook until we fall asleep. All we want is peace and quiet and relaxation.
Even if we do sit down to eat as a family unit, everyone has a fork in one hand and an electronic device in the other. And ear phones jammed in their ears. And the TV blaring from the living room.
But these practices, these flawed and selfish values don’t lend themselves to hospitality, to leisurely, intentionally, purposefully sitting around a table and generously sharing our lives with others, especially our children. Or God’s children.
Maybe that’s why we don’t experience the joy we would like. Maybe that’s why we aren’t radically building up our faith community. Maybe that’s why our families are fragmented. Just a thought.
Tracy has been gone since 1989. My boys left not long after. But that was not the end of “family” meals for us. Kenny and I still enjoy blueberry muffins on Sunday mornings (if I get up early enough) and now we don’t have to fight with anybody over the last one or the best one. Kenny is always the winner. We still eat together every evening and just about any other time we can. Our family ritual.
And we have mended that broken family circle and enlarged its definition quite a bit. We have a lot more “family” joining us at the table, children of our hearts whose lives we pray we can influence for the Kingdom of God. Around the family table, there is food and conversation. There is encouragement and exhortation. There are questions and answers…or not. There is mutual respect and caring. There is joy and friendship. There is safety and unconditional love. There is belonging.
I still have a whole lot of life—and muffins—to share.
And God has a very big family.
Won’t you build a circle at your table?
—Eileen Hill
*Please be advised that this blog represents the views, opinions and beliefs of the writer and does not necessarily reflect those of our church leadership or denominational affiliation.