Gathering - It's What We Do Best

"All great change in America begins at the dinner table." 
-Ronald Reagan

This photo is of the aftermath of our annual Halloween dinner held last evening. I wanted the newlyweds present so I designated Sunday night as the night. After my painstaking effort to purchase all of the necessary ingredients Saturday night, I found myself without eggs on Sunday afternoon. I was determined to keep the Sabbath Day holy, so I sent Jess and Sabrina to Mom's to fetch four eggs. Everything was coming along swimmingly until Neil got the laptop out and began to book a vacation home for our D.C. trip in the spring. I wanted to tell him that making major vacation plans just as I was in the thick of making homemade chicken noodle soup seemed like a bad idea, but I was trying not to be that naggy wife. 

Just as I began to add flour to the noodle mixture, Neil was getting close to finalizing the booking, and I was trying to remind him to first find out if the house we wanted was near a metro stop because I didn't want to have to walk a mile every day to get to public transit. This was just enough distraction to cause my already fragile brain to completely lose count of how many cups of flour I had put into the noodles. There were too many cups of flour, I knew it. Insert meltdown. Jessica told me to calm down and just add some more milk. I looked at her like lobsters were coming out of her nostrils. Making those homemade noodles is like performing delicate heart surgery. If the milk, to egg, to flour ratio is not spot on, then you end up with noodles the consistency of rubber tires. I know, because I made rubber tire noodles for the first ten years of our marriage. The only choice was to start over on the noodles. 

Neil knew he was in trouble. He immediately set off to the store to buy more eggs. That's it. The Sabbath was officially broken. My determination to keep The Big Ten was for not. Which is probably why it all went downhill from there. Spencer had offered to make the cornbread while I was lamenting over how dinner was ruined and he forgot to add the egg. So we served unleavened corn bread with our soup. Spencer also felt like Jonah had been awfully generous in serving up his orange float while being a little stingy with Sabrina's portion. He took it upon himself to even up the portions, resulting in half the contents of Jonah's cup ending up all over the table. But the second batch of noodles was on pointe, thank you very much!

As we sopped up the orange float and Spencer apologized profusely while Sabrina asked him why he could't leave well enough alone, I thought I heard the faint sound of circus music humming in the background. And I was pretty sure I could read Taylor's thoughts.

Surely he was thinking for the fifth time this month, "What kind of crazy have I married into?!"

But I didn't let the insanity keep me from enjoying our special dinner. You see Imperfection seems to abound so unhindered in my life that he and I have become rather good friends. His austere brother, Perfection, thinks we have the plague and never sets foot in our house, but Imperfection?...he and I are tight. His presence is so constant now that we just set him a regular place at the dinner table. He's part of the family really. This night, he sat smugly next to Jonah, patting himself on the back for doing exceptional work this particular evening. 

Dinner was a delight. A good time was had by all.

So why do I do this? Why do I plan these elaborate meals and give myself meltdowns over the execution of such meals? Something that a dear friend said recently comes to mind.

She said,"I plan elaborate birthday parties for my kids. It's what I do. It's what moms do. We plan fun and special birthdays for our families."

That resonated with me this morning as I pondered over my still messy kitchen. It's what I do. I gather my children around the dinner table for special meals. It's what moms do. We gather our families. It is a trait inherent in women. We feel the need to gather our families, and we feel even more compelled to do so as our children begin to leave the nest. We often work under the tried and true belief that "If we feed them, they will come." So we plan special dinners and parties and picnics. We gather. It's what we do.

There is such value in gathering our families, and it would seem that women feel called to the work of gathering. I see it in my own life. I see it as the adults in my family look forward to Halloween as much as the kids, as it means that our mother will gather us to her home every 31st of October to feed us and to love us. We will find her in her apron, and in her kitchen, toiling over large pots of chili, worrying, as she does every year, whether she got the spices right. We will purr as she pulls hot rolls out of the oven that smell of home and taste of heaven. We will forget our own troubles for one night as we sit around the dinner table and laugh and reminisce and bask in the beauty that is family. 

I am reminded poignantly of the importance of gathering since the passing of Neil's mom. She made it her life's work to gather her children, and she made it look effortless, always creating reasons to bring the kids home and to gather them around her dining room table. Now we find ourselves going weeks at a time without seeing each other because the master gatherer is no longer with us.

I speak not just of mothers but of women. There is not a person in my family who would not contend that next to our mother, our single sister is best at gathering our family. The dinners and parties and baby showers that she has thrown over the years have created some of our fondest family memories and bonds. 

We live in a world that is beginning to demean and belittle some of the traits inherent to women. Some of the intangible and immeasurable qualities of women, such as the ability to gather our loved ones, are rarely praised or even acknowledged in this new age of corporate climbing and material success. This same world is drowning in violence and immorality and corruption. I refuse to be demeaned by such a world. I will not be told where my value lies by a confused and floundering society. This world that attempts to place a band-aid on a cancer by screaming for regulations, and policies, and support groups, and institutions and speaks nothing of a need for more nurturing in the home, holds no clout to me. Could it be that the greatest battles are those against home and family and women? Could it be that the enemy of all good knows the power of one woman gathering her family? Could it be the thing that he fears most is the thought of women all over the world, in affluent homes and the most humble of homes alike, regularly gathering their families in a loving and nurturing way?

Could it be that, as we gather our children and nourish their bodies with food and their souls with love, that we are, in fact, doing God's work? Was Jesus Christ not always gathering his disciples, feeding their bodies first, and then feeding their spirits?

I say all of this because the struggle is real for me. Too often I come rushing through the door, throw some takeout on the counter, yell to the kids to "eat up", then rush off to my next event. For too many years now, I have considered the nagging task of meal prep to be the greatest thorn in my side. Too often I ignore my need to gather my family. And yet when I do gather my chicks around the table, I feel most content, most fulfilled, most authentic, to coin all of the buzz words that seem to be floating around these days.

Sometimes we gather our family around a meal of hot soup, and handmade noodles, and warm unleavened cornbread. And the other 29 days of the month we may gather them around a plate of frozen corndogs and tatertots straight out of the microwave, or a pizza still in the box. Somehow I feel that there is value in all of it. Sometimes we gather our family and engage in uplifting conversation where all voices are heard, all opinions are valued, and where strong Christian values are instilled. And the other 29 days of the month, we may gather our family and engage in 30 minutes of uncurbed bickering and bantering while our good friend Imperfection sits resolutely at the head of the table. Could it be that there is still much good in such an evening? Could it be that the self-esteem and sense of security that we are creating in our kids by consistently gathering them is far greater than any self-help course or support group could do?

We women are good at gathering our loved ones. It's what we do. I believe the world would do good to remain silent and to allow its women to do what we do best. There is value in this work. I feel it in my very bones. May I have the courage to act upon such feelings.