Coming to the Table
“He brought me out into a spacious place;
he rescued me because he delighted in me.”
Back home, Sarah Harmeyer, founder of Neighbors Table, ushered in another symbol: the table. After a year and half of life in the house and weeks of real labor creating the garden and hanging the art, the haven I had hoped to create was beginning to reveal itself to me. Open space. Big table. Plants in the earth. Music in our ears. The petunias were dancing for me and the maidenhair ferns smiling at me with their delicate but buoyant leaves giggling about the geraniums.
So, the table comes and we do what my Mothers says, we get our arms wide, scooch in and make a seat .
The table is our place for both the common life and the extraordinary. We prepare goodness for our hearts and our tummies. We think about the people we are feeding as we let the olive oil drizzle onto the vegetables or the dust the meats with spices. And wine. We choose the wine with painstaking clarity.
The table is also a place we come to with a level playing field. We are all hungry and thirsty. None of us can get away from our need for nourishment. God uses our bodies to remind us of our limitations. We must eat. We must sleep. We must drink water. Thriving requires nourishment. It requires healthy foods and rest.
But food is more than a necessity; it also delights us. Our pallets are vast and unique. Add a piece of dry-aged ribeye to a bold Mt.Veeder Cabernet and you will find yourself skipping dessert for one more glass and your neighbors leftover piece of steak. Salty. Savory. Sweet. We eat for survival and for pleasure.
When we come to the table something divine happens. And the whole process counts. The meat being prepared, the smoke coming out of the grill. The wines we paired with our foods. The raw vegetables posing on the tray, naked in all their glory. Simple, beautiful foods. Most just right from the ground.
When we unwrap the meats from the butcher paper, we stare at all of it for a bit and talk about how we will prepare it, which rub we will use. From the butcher block we head to the garden to find cauliflower and broccoli and carrots. Anything we can pour olive oil on, salt, sprinkle with rosemary and roast at 400 degrees. That is all. Do not do anything else to those magical foods. Our favorite Japanese yams are a staple with coconut oil and sea salt. The meal comes together and we open a bottle of wine and the doors to the back patio and the smoky air wafts into the room and we know the Green Egg is doing its thing.
We set the table. Each person has a place. All are invited to the table. Kids get no knives. Grown ups need steak knives. Regular dishes or paper plates? Depends on how tired I am and how many times I’ve done the dishes this week. Never fancy or formal but always with great intention. Purposeful meal times. The meats come off the smoker and we all stand around watching Josh carve so he will hand us one of the most savory pieces and we taste it with our wine.
Everyone is called to the table together. We hold hands and pray. We are thankful. We are together. We are whole. The kids are loud and laughing. Glasses are clinking. Forks and knives are clanking. It’s all a little raucous until the kids open Popsicles and run outside.
We settle in by the fireplace to nourish ourselves with a serving of Together. We share what we have been reading this week. Books. Bibles. Blogs. We talk about work and kids and church and feminism and sex and God. We say I love you so much. We share quotes about friendship and validate the moment as real and significant and important. Our hearts are warm, our tummies are full, we feel connected to one another and to God and the entire night is Eucharisteo. They leave and I swear this is a glimpse into heaven. This is the communion my soul longs for. With my beloved friends and family and my God and my children. And the food from the earth and the wine from the vine. All at once I felt both lost and found. I didn't know where I was going; I only knew in that night I was Right Here, Right Now. Present. Nothing is perfect and everything is just right.
more coming soon
(If you haven't read the rest of the story, you can start from the beginning right here.)