Finding the Eucharist

I'm not sure why, but something is happening at our table as we gather around it these days. It's almost like an invitation to the Mystical part of God right here in our home. It's not planned, it's not something we're really even aware of until it happens, it doesn't always happen; but it is definitely palpable when it does. As we take the time to break bread and remember Him together, with no other agenda, we can feel the atmosphere shift. It's left me wondering how this happens? How does the eucharist find it's way to my table? I've been thinking about it for a few weeks...

The Lawman and I have longed to create space to be present with people, just to be with without any agenda or purpose or format or "Need to get with them." Be with our children, be with ~ he and I alone and just be with those in our life. But for a long time being with required too much of us because of all the other needs tos. We were *burning the candle at both ends of the stick*, as the saying goes. What we had left over was just enough physical and emotional energy to check in with those we care about, try to create some kind of a family night, make the birthdays and holidays happen, etc.; but not enough reserve to just be with. 

I'm not sure how to explain what I want to say, but I can feel a shift that has happened in our lives as we're stepping back from the cultural tsunami of what feels like racing toward our deathbeds. As we create space I'm sensing that there is now space for the eucharist to happen. An expectancy - a joy and a longing to be with others around our table and break bread and drink wine and remember Him - has risen in our hearts as life becomes more simple. It's the ecclesia, "the assembly of fellow Believers" remembering Him, around my table that feels the most sacred these days. Whether with my college kids home or with friends or just our small family still left here, it feels sacred. 

I love this picture from Bob Goff. It struck me as so poignant - the first thing Jesus did after walking out of His grave clothes was to make a meal and share it with his friends.  

Several weekends ago we had been working all day in the garden with a dear friend. As the day ended another friend who is like family to us came for dinner and we all squeezed ourselves around my husband's grandmother's table. All of us - nine all together from 3 to mid 50's gathered to break bread just because we're hungry and we love being together. I'm sitting there bumping knees and accidentally kicking feet and quietly grieving the 10ft table I recently sold because it doesn't fit in this temporary home we're living in now. 

We had all spent extended time overseas so we made our way around the table passing bowls of food and started to share our "Most scary overseas story." If you've ever spent more than a week or two overseas you have some scary stories to share. :) So as the stories made their way around to my littlest one, he's three and he doesn't remember our months in Asia, he wanted to share a scary dream he had that week instead.

We listened to him take a deep breath and say "I have a scary dweam to say." I felt it ~ the eucharist ~ something sacred was happening as this little one shared his heart...concern filled his eyes as he said, "I had a scary dream that a man wiff horns coming out him's back camed and took me away from my bed and wouldn't bwing me back." We all sat there kind of stunned - it was a scary dream. Our dear friend who has walked a lot of trail with us looked across the table and said, "Asa...we would come find you." Asa looked at him and quietly said "You would come find me?"  as if fear and doubt was being fought and defeated in his little heart as this exchange happened across our table. Our dear friend responded "We wouldn't stop looking until we found you, Asa...we wouldn't stop." My three year old looked down with relief and said "Ok." 

Something happened. Healing. Freedom. Liberty. Tears burned my eyes as we kept talking, laughter eventually came and wine was shared. All of us around the table were broken and still are - we don't have a stellar resume for perfect living, but we have love and each other and most importantly; we have His broken body and blood spilled out that will one day make us completely whole. It made me wonder if it really is this simple ~ His children sharing a meal and listening to Him and being Him as He is with us and we are with each other. 

I'm not sure how the eucharist finds its way to a table, but I know that it does if we take the time to linger and invite Him by our simply gathering. Sometimes I feel the eucharist as we sip the juice and crackers at church - it's a good symbol to help us remember, but I don't think it's exactly what Jesus had in mind when He was eating with his friends and said, "Hey, don't stop doing this...always remember me this way." 

I can't figure it out, but what I do know is that there is so much Life to be shared over a pizza or a leg of lamb when the being together as collection of Him is the whole and only reason.