The Dinner Table
Growing up in a traditional Italian family in New Jersey, the dinner table naturally became the central part of most everything we did. Although it did not lack dysfunction or chaos, it also did not lack love.
The only thing I would ask my family growing up was, “Tell me a story.” I learned the value of listening around this table because what I heard was life-giving, even when I didn’t have the language to describe it.
So, I invite you to my dinner table...
I am endlessly thankful that when I fully gave my life to Jesus, I had an idea of what He looked like from the faces I saw around the table. That table became my own kind of sanctuary. I am still learning more about Jesus through those I love.
The Word can only be as transformational as it is personal.
As I read the Gospels and of God’s unfailing love, I look at Nana who is just as in love with Papa today as the day he passed away.
As I read Proverbs, I think of all the conversations with Dad. Whether it’s how to change an air filter to what the flashing button in my car is to dreams for the future, I can depend on his wisdom to guide and direct me.
As I read Psalms, I see David - a man of passion and one who endures. Finding God’s goodness and holding onto His faithfulness. In pain. In joy. In doubt. I see my Mom. Who, through the hardship of loss, divorce, single motherhood, never let a day go by without telling her three kids that she loved us.
The Word can only be as transformational as it is personal.
As I read about the prodigal son in Luke 15, I think of family members who are not yet saved. I have hope that I am not the savior of my family and that God is a good father who would choose to tie up his robe, set aside anger or pain, and run as fast as he could to his son. Even going so far as to throw a party in his honor. It makes the Scripture more than just words. It becomes a promise.
“As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.”
I see my aunt in 1 Samuel. A Hannah, waiting for a child and finally receiving the gift of my cousin. I see my sister in Peter - an all or nothing girl who will fight hard for what she believes in and sticks to it.
I read the testimonies of healing all throughout the Bible - the Gospels, Acts - and remember how both my grandmothers have been miraculously healed of cancer. Of myself being healed of diagnosed anxiety. The endless amounts of personal, first-hand encounters of the Lord undeniably healing my friends and family.
I met Jesus in these people before I even opened a Bible.
All these faces. All these lives. This table is full of different facets of the face of Jesus. This table is my sanctuary.
