I believe in the family dinner ritual. Unfortunately, most nights we are missing one or two people, but I don’t give up. Having everyone around me, being nourished and sharing is the highlight of my day.
Empty chairs make me sad.
Dinner is not always a special occasion. My cooking, our moods, and The Schedule get in the way, but I think that the “dinner time at the table ritual” is special because you can count on it, not because it’s always perfect or fun. My family knows that there will be a meal and that I will expect them to answer a few questions about their day.
Richard fixed two of our broken chairs so we have enough seating for everyone. I love that he did this. I love these old uncomfortable chairs.
I served some leftover baked ziti to the kids around the dinner table last night. My first surprise was that they engulfed it. The next surprise was the conversation that happened as we ate.
We were all feeling comfortable and happy. Mark said, “Mom, our family is different than any other family because our handwriting has monkey tails (I taught the kids to write D’Nealian style), we go to Spring Lake where we have a dinner bell, and we say, ‘Is everybody happy?’ ‘Well, I should say!'”
And so our conversation turned to things which define our family.
Tim added, “We don’t have DS or PS3 or XBox or anything like that and we get really excited about seeing our extended family.”
Daniel said, “We study really hard and we are good students.”
We were interrupted at this point, but I would have added, “We try really hard to make dinner time a good family time.”
I need to remember this little dinner scene to help me press on and keep trying to find ways to sit down together at this table.
I read someplace that the family dinner table is like an altar in the home. It’s a place to teach, train, gather for prayer, and grow in love. It can help families stay together. Amen.