We meet over a shared meal. Breaking bread in a way that is both sacred and ordinary. It is a holy time set aside each month to gather around a friend’s table. We never coordinate what to bring for the meal. Yet, miraculously, it always works. Sometimes, it is all salads and bread. Someone might try out a new recipe, and we’ll all ask for a copy. Usually, someone has the good sense to bring dessert. It is always right. It always works, without fail.

In its own way, my friend’s kitchen is a sanctuary on Sunday evenings. She sets a beautiful table with candles and flowers and a floral tablecloth. On chilly days, there is a fire on the grate. We laugh and share stories. We make known our burdens and, sometimes in tears, we carry those concerns to God in prayer. 

There are seven of us. One member has a husband with Parkinson’s disease. Her life contracted as she became a full-time caregiver. Another’s father just died after long, sad weeks following a stroke. One is a teacher, who is adjusting to a change in grade level and now has to adjust to teaching 3rd graders online. One is a widow dealing with loneliness and a family dispute over her husband’s estate. There are worries about planned trips amid a pandemic. There are worries about adult children who live life close to the edge. There are always decisions to be made. Changes to be navigated. 

And thankfully, there are praiseworthy bits of news.

Our last meeting — before we had to shelter in place — had been delayed and so, was much needed. The warm stew, cornbread, and salads were filling and especially delicious. Happy birthday balloons were still on display after a grandson’s birthday. It was festive and full of balm for the soul.

This group reminds me of the “Cooking Club” that author Shauna Nieguist describes in one of my favorite books, Bread & Wine: A Love Letter to Life Around the Table: 

“It seems like we’ve been meeting together forever, but we realized last night that it’s been three years this month, and that’s worth remembering for me—that it doesn’t take a decade, and it doesn’t take three times a week.

“Once a month, give or take, for three years, and what we’ve built is impressive — strong, complex, multifaceted. Like a curry or boeuf bourguignon, something you cook for hours and hours, allowing the flavors to develop over time, changing and deepening with each passing hour on the heat.

“You don’t always know what’s going to come of it, but you put the time in any way, and then,, after a long, long time, you realize with great clarity why you put the time in: for this night, for these hours around the table, for the complexity and richness of flavors that are so lovely and unexpected you’re still thinking about them the next day.”

Such is true of our monthly Gathering. These ladies are wise and prayerful. 

They are a gift.