Sometimes I still set seven plates for Sunday dinner. It’s part habit and likely part subconscious, hopeful thinking. Soon our oldest son will be home from college for Thanksgiving break and our Sunday dinner tradition— our liturgy — will be complete. There will be no need to pass the phone around when he calls (as our boys cleverly remind us of our rule about phones at the table). He will be with us and no doubt happy to have a meal he didn’t have to prepare. This Sunday evening ritual made more poignant with his return has always been more than a meal—it’s the rhythm that draws us back together, the bookend to our week.
Finding Meaning in Sunday Dinner Traditions
I find it interesting how Sunday evenings hold deep significance at a point in life that I’m not as sentimental as I am practical. Little hands aren’t constantly directing my gaze to the wonder and amazement around every corner. I have to try harder to stay focused when someone is talking, when I need to remember something and my decision making capacity is spent before noon. There’s a kind of blur to this season—days spilling into each other as responsibilities stack higher.
With so many things pulling at once that there’s hardly room to linger in reflection. It’s not that I’ve lost gratitude or appreciation; it’s simply that nostalgia can be a tricky companion. A wistful visit brings a smile, but if I linger too long, I find myself caught in a longing that’s hard to move on from. To bring some levity to my penchant to remember those younger years so blissfully, it helps to remember the days of struggling to get everyone to stay seated.
Home is Beautiful, Holy Ground
But when I think about what a liturgy truly is—a shared rhythm of worship—I realize that’s exactly what we’ve practiced here at home. And I find that tenderness as I am reminded that this is what we carve out the time for each week, the togetherness. Making a meal, gathering around the table, starting with our formal prayer, Bless us O Lord and these Thy gifts, gives way to stories and laughter usually at someone’s willing expense. It is rushed sometimes depending on the homework load and often there’s a game on in the background, and yet it’s ours.
Usually, we sandwich the time between closing up the store and Sunday night basketball, between homework and grocery shopping and our boys arriving back home from their practice, rehearsal, a friend’s house. While our conversations are mostly about everyday life stuff, we are reverent about coming together, the act itself is special and set apart from the ordinary. We are honoring the relationship God has given us with one another as a family by taking this time to just be together.
There’s nothing fancy about this particular liturgy. It often gets loud and a little crazy. I imagine the Good Lord smiling at our lapses in manners, but delighted all the same. The most simple thing is holy when God is within it. There’s always a seat for Him.
Heartbeat Rhythms of the Table
A Mom’s Kitchen Table Prayer
Heavenly Father,
As we gather around this table to share our days, the good moments and the hard ones too, may we always know what a gift it is to be here with one another, telling our stories and breaking bread together.
Be with us Lord, in the conversations at this table. Bless us with laughter and lightness. Let us truly enjoy one another. And may everyone who pulls up a chair here feel seen and heard, loved through full bellies and leave with full hearts.
Around this table, give my children a collection of their favorite memories and meals, to return to for comfort and warmth when they need it most. Let them carry the special traditions and love found here into their own homes one day to begin the Liturgy of Sunday Dinners again.
In you name, Jesus, Amen.