Coming to the Dinner Table

Communion /kəˈmyo͞onyən/ noun: the sharing or exchanging of intimate thoughts and feelings, especially when the exchange is on a mental or spiritual level.

My family had a lovely evening with some friends last night. Our kids swam in the pool. There was fresh baked bread. We opened a bottle of wine. Ate a new kind of cheese. Chatting at the BBQ. A pie was served.

It was one of those few moments each year when everything is relaxed, conversation is good, energy is comforting, connecting comes effortlessly. The outside world just disappears.

And then we heard the news.

I don’t have terrestrial TV or cable anymore, and I’ve turned most phone notifications off. So I heard about it a little after most. My son found the video on YouTube.

Initially, I felt uncomfortable about continuing our peaceful evening in my backyard. But for just a little longer, I wanted to keep out the cacophonous news cycle that I knew was building. I wanted to shelter my children from the despicable reality. I wanted to hide from the hatred that had spilled over.

Food is medicine. And although it seems glib to suggest that a dinner party might resolve all this turmoil, being in communion with others was exactly what I needed last night in order to process things.

Thanks to that peace and quiet, I’ll have more constructive things to say at the dinner table tonight.