Mealtime Practices

Ahhh, dinnertime. That joyous time when we gather together to eat a meal and enjoy the company of our family. Or is it the chaotic time when I throw some food on the table, beg my children to eat it, and then plead with them to use silverware and eat with their mouths closed? Maybe it's a little of both.

All of the statistics say wonderful things about families who eat together (particularly around a table in their own home). What do they say again? The family who eats together stays together? 4 out of 5 children who grow up in a home where they meet together for meals at least 3 times a week grow up to be well-adjusted, emotionally stable, college educated, financially viable people? Yeah, that's the statistic I like, I could swear I read that one in Ladies Home Journal the other day. Anyway, whatever it says, it makes me feel smug as a parent - cooking meals, gathering the family and sitting down to pray over our food.

But then the smugness evaporates as my 9-year-old insists on using his fingers to eat everything from applesauce to spaghetti, my 3 and 5-year-olds pick at their food like birds only to beg for dessert and complain about how starving they are five minutes after the table is cleared, and my 7-year-old makes every sort of obnoxious noise known to man during the course of the meal. (If you've ever seen Dumb and Dumber - the most annoying sound in the world, my boy's got it down!)

I once heard a man talk about how at their dinner table he and his siblings' goal was to get their parents laughing so hard that milk shot out of their noses. While disgusting, it made me think. What if this goal I have of raising my children to be polite and proper at the dinner table is stifling their inner comedian? What if we're missing out on laughter and fun, all in the name of a peaceful atmosphere to digest our food?

This is another place where I like to blame mom and dad for my confusion. I remember the casual atmosphere of mom's little round table for three. We were expected to eat with our mouths closed, but other than that I don't remember being corrected or prodded in any way. We ate Steak-ums with relish, talked and goofed off.

At dad's formal dining room table we were to eat quietly, with mouths closed (I am thankful for that suggestion), elbows off the table, napkins in our lap all while trying every strange and exotic food they put before us. (I remember sushi and seaweed before it was "cool" to eat.) At dad's it got to the point that we assumed they plotted and planned a new ridiculous rule for each weekend visit. Seriously, how many rules can you come up with to torment a child? Of course, now I understand a little better.

And I am glad that if I were invited to the White House I would go in pretty well prepared, etiquette wise. That's a useful skill, I think.

But is it so useful that I need to torment my children in the same way? Should we allow Lukas to collapse to the floor in giggles because he tooted again? Should we let Gabe try out every new noise on the family to see which one gets the best reaction? And how important is it really, that my little ones actually consume the food I put before them? Okay, that last one might not be optional.

So what do I choose, or will it choose me? As our children age and their personalities become even more irrepressible, will they guide our mealtime rituals for us? Maybe some day Gabe's noises will cause fluids to eject from our bodies, and maybe, just maybe, Lukas will be using a fork when it happens.

Mrs. Michigan and Other Noble Pursuits

So here I am posing with the lovely and talented Mrs. Michigan - tiara, sash, and all! (The beautiful girl to her left is my friend Crystal, who I was blessed to stay with over the weekend.) One thing that I found out about pagentry is that the women who enter them are fiercely competitive. I always thought they were just pretty, freakishly tall and skinny girls with an assortment of interesting talents - but apparently the will to win is key.

In all honesty, I enjoyed hearing Laura Loveberry (the crowned one) share her heart for women and passion for the love of Christ to be shared. When she got into the story of how she went from fun-loving cheerleader to "big Bible toting Jesus Freak" (which she had specifically prayed not to become), the room was riveted. I love seeing how God has gifted each person so uniquely, with their own story and passion.

While the conference was great, the highlight was getting to visit my friend, and bring my son along to play with Crystal's oldest boy. I remember when Crystal (above) got married and her sister gave the perfect toast when she said that Corey was getting Betty Crocker, Martha Stewart and Elle McPherson all rolled into one. Now, after peering out into their backyard (read: farm) where chickens roam, baby goats play, and all sorts of foods grow, I see that he also got the wife from Green Acres as well.

The only problem we ran into was that my 7 year old is used to mostly prepackaged food bought from a grocery store (preferably Aldi). So when he was offered their variety of truly whole wheat bread, goat's milk or raw cow's milk, he basically chose not to eat for a day. He had agreed to mac and cheese, then decided no. He was offered other food, which didn't appeal to him. Finally he asked for an apple and water, thinking he couldn't go wrong there. He ate the apple, but then after taking one sip of water he blurted out, "What is wrong with this water?" Corey explained that it comes from a well in the ground. Gabe wanted to know where our water comes from, so Corey explained that process. Then Corey offered to mix the water with grape juice to make it taste better. Gabe took a drink and then said, "It still tastes like dirt."

We will be working on graciousness and how to be a guest in someone's home this week.

Thankfully, Corey told me the whole story with a smirk on his face. I'm glad he found my son mildly entertaining. On the way home I was talking to Gabe about his pickyness when he said, "But they have good apples!" It was Michigan, I'm glad they can't mess up apples.

Getting back to the conference - my part went better than I expected. I went in prepared for these women to be shocked and maybe even put off by my idea of this God of Romance. What amazed me was that in my first seminar everyone had tears in their eyes as I spoke of God's passionate love for them. They were ready and eager to hear it. And then I was encouraged when several women came up to tell me how it impacted them. But I was overwhelmed when two women from the later sessions, who have been on this journey for some time, came up to me with a gleam of hope and excitement in their eyes and said, "I've never thought of God's love like that."

I was humbled and speechless and overwhelmed. God was clearly doing something so much bigger than me. I felt honored to be a part of God speaking to their hearts and pray now that this knowledge goes deep into their souls. I am thrilled that God is still alive and active, his word sharper than a two-edged sword, dividing joints and marrow, and able to make an aging woman blush because of the passion of His love for her. Amazing.