When I think about "family dinner time", I wax all sentimental. I just can't help myself.
I imagine laughter and unending conversations and good-natured teasing. Oh, and of course, a high falootin' five course meal that my inner Martha Stewart has conjured up. Sans the recipe books, thankyouverymuch.
Have I mentioned that side of me currently lies dormant? Um. Yeah. I'm waiting for the resurrection power of Jesus to breathe life into her one of these days. A girl can hope, can't she?
But the point is that at the words "family dinner," I envision joy and fun.
Yet. Can I be honest here? You feeling up to a rather large helping of Christin-Unplugged? I hope so because here it comes....
By dinnertime, I'm feeling
Allow me to set the stage, mkay?
Jet walks in the door around 5:45. I'm usually throwing last minute things together while simultaneously convincing my youngest she does not, in fact, want to nurse... again. All while instructing my 2 year old, for the 20th time, to stop touching the hot stove. A concept she's determined to learn the hard way.
One (or more) children are at their wits end. and I just want to barricade myself in my room, pretend I am responsible for no one, and phone the nearest Take-Out restaurant. Ben and Jerry's does take out, right?
Sounds all-together inspiring, doesn't it? Yes, well I do try.
And if I'm being even more honest (why stop now, eh?) I'd go on to tell you that sometimes I'm so ready for the whole day of "Fun Family Time" to be over that I finally give in to my girls' cries of "Can we just go ahead and pray?" as they sit at the table with their plates set before them (while Jet and I are still trying to get our own together).
Yes. yes. For the love of God, thank Him for this food and be done with it.
I know. There I go being all Inspirational and...stuff.
Then there's the happy dinner chatter.
Yes, we do have it. We laugh. We joke. We talk about the day. But sometimes that inner jerk of mine rears its ugly head and demands to be heard.
I correct their chewing. or manners. or use that precious time to bring up a past fault that needed to be brought to Daddy's attention. or ...some other form of lively, indigestion-induced conversation.
things that evoke neither fun nor joyous.
Growing up, family dinner times were anything but fun for me. They were used for correction and bickering and put-downs that oft times left me (or my brother) leaving the table crying. Or the flip side, we'd eat in complete silence. Four members of the same family sitting side by side but emotionally miles apart.
What a waste.
I do not want to recreate that for my girls. I refuse to have my girls dread dinner time like I did. or Family Time in general, for that matter. I grew up feeling that I was emotionally safe with anyone but my family.
Maybe that's why I'm so sentimental when it comes to the dinner time ideal? because I want my children to have what I wanted when I was little.
But what I'm finding is that the reality of living out the Fun Family ideal takes intentionality and work. And a renewing of my mind.
a reminding myself that dinnertime is not the time to correct. or tell Daddy about the day's shortcomings. or...anything negative.
It's about *enjoying* family.
I know, novel concept, right? But let's face it...when we, as adults, are trying to do something different from the way we experienced it as kids, it takes surprising effort. regardless of how "duh" the needed change is.
Years from now, will it truly matter that someone forgot to chew with their mouth closed? or that they accidentally spilled milk and watched while it ran all over the floor? or that they did something else less-than-perfect in the span of the last 24 hours?
NO. But I do know that the atmosphere Jet and I are creating today will forever shape the way they view Family. that the short amount of time that we spend both preparing and eating dinner is the pivotal point in time...the CRUX... of where that mindset is established.
and I want to take special care that I do everything in my power to submit to His Power in this.
Because, yes my days are exhausting. By 4 o'clock, I'm fairly worn out. By 5 o'clock, I'm trying hard to hold it together. By 6...I'm just glad that Jet is home and that I can emotionally "check out".
I know, I know. Mother of the Year. Just pass it over.
But bottom line, even in the midst of my exhaustion and (sometimes) stress, I have a choice. A choice to go after that ideal I so giddily dream of.
The one where my children are all sitting around the table, laughing and talking and enjoying one another.
I just need to remember that it starts Today. in the midst of exhaustion. not in the absence of it. in the midst of less than perfect
In this moment, I want to create the Joy. not wait for it to grab me by *cough cough*....some body part...demanding I take notice of it. because by that time, it'll be too late.
Beef? No! JOY...it's what's for dinner.
The kind of dinner I want to serve up anyway.
