Feasting on Memories

david greeted us at the door with a warm hello and welcome.  we entered to a table set and waiting, lights low, candle burning.

The Meal in Emmaus by Jacopo da Pontormo

heather and i joined the others in the kitchen.  she carried a bottle of wine, one of her favorite varieties.  soon alex entered with beer, his choice too.  i reveled in their contributions, sad that i hadn’t thought to bring one of my own.

however, i breathed out a wave of guilt and drank deep the air of blessing.  my eyes traveled from face to face, and around the surfaces that held elements of david’s hospitality.  grace abounded in all of my senses.  it bubbled with multitudes of fresh vegetables in a pot of soup on the stove.  it rested decadently with the parmesan cheese that we shredded on top.  it melted across my tongue with the handmade bread that blew nick’s mind.  with each sip of wine it warmed me from the inside out.   we sat and tasted and marveled.

and then the stories.  every piece had its own…the wine…the cheese… the bread…the soup…the faces.

and soon we were feasting on memories as we listened and shared with each other.  stories evoked more stories.  and curiosity about what had brought us each to this table.  stories that spanned oceans and years.  hearts and bodies grieving.  longing.  feasting.  in this moment, nourished, filled.  eyes glowing.  the air now offered a different kind of warmth.  as i sat, held and holding the others’ words, i wondered at how naturally community had been born among us.  pregnant moments.  healing tears.  this was communion.  life-giving bread.  live upon life.  and all were welcome.

what brings you to the table?

by Becca Shirley