I grew up in what I thought was a normal suburban household. My family ate dinner together practically every single night. The table was filled with laughter, stories from everyones day, political debates and my mother reminding us to appreciate her food because there were children starving elsewhere. I thought that every family had the luxuary of eating meals together and of the quality time spent around the table. It wasn't until I was in high school and college that I began to realize what a rarity this actually was. Many of my friends had parents who worked late, or siblings whos busy after school schedules conflicted with one another so they were left eating at staggered times.
My first year living in the dorms--I absolutly dreaded the days when my friends were busy, when we had conflicting class schedules and when I was forced to eat alone. However; I charished the moments and there were many of them when I would have 10-15 friends crammed at a table once again sharing laughs and stories. At this time in my life these close friends became a family. I remember sitting over dinner--in the "Mav Pav" as we called it at the time--when I broke down and told my friends that I had found out earlier that afternoon that my Grandfather had passed away. They ssupported me with encouraging Bible verses as I chowed down on the greasy and delicious pizza.
Since moving back to Denver I have witnessed how communal meals build relationshps. Ironically, I have been provided a free meal fom my homeless friend Marcus. We have sat outside and shared PBJs while we discussed eduation, God, our pasts and our futures. This was one of my first interactions with Marcus--a man I now consider a friend. I once bought a meal for a student who left his wallet at home. We ate together and I realized then how much two complete strangers could have in common. Altough I haven't run into him again this was a moment that positivly touched and changed me. I quit believing the old addage "stranger danger"--well at least not in all circumstances. Another time I was asked out to lunch by a homeless man who invited me to eat the free food at Saint Francis with him. We sat on the Church steps and I vivdly remember him telling me that someday I would be a great teacher who would change the world. His words touched me. I was involved in a sacred moment through the act of meal sharing with a man I unfortunately never saw again.
I have shared frozen yogurt with a street performer on 16th street mall, chowed on Thi food with a high school friend I hadn't seen in years, and built relationships around the philosophy that there is something sacred and Christ-like about sharing meals.
A short & sweet magnetic poem I wrote awhile ago.
