Sunday Dinner


Sunday is special.  It is the Sabbath for some where we are to take a day of rest, remember this day, and keep it holy.  It’s a day of family.  Family leads me to tradition.  Where would we be without tradition?  Honoring old promises a legacy.  Creating new adds diversity and is necessary in our dynamic world of go go go.

Sunday Dinner (which on all other days of the week, I would call it lunch—weird, uh?) was an event of tradition when I was growing up.  My Grandma Lee would cook the most amazing food your mouth had ever experienced from her fruitful garden every single Sunday after church.  There was always enough for all of us and anyone else who wanted to join.  From buttered potatoes, roast with the most perfect gravy from the drippings, yellow wax beans, okra patties, to the Italian cream cake she made, I would experience perfection Sunday after Sunday.  My Grandpa would tell funny stories while he put sacrine sweetner in his tea.  All of the kids would dive in like it was our last meal.  The men planned out their hunting trips while the women planned who was getting a perm that afternoon.  It brings back nothing but yummy, delicious memories.

Time forces change.  My Grandpa passed.  My Grandma unable to prepare meals like she once did.  Now, my mother carries out the tradition.  Someday, I’ll carry this out for my children and grandchildren.  What are your Sunday Dinner memories?What are your traditions of past and present?  I challenge you to remember the Sabbath and keep it holy putting God first and your family at a table with no distractions other than each other.  Share with one another positive things.  Funny things.  Things that create happiness.  I’m not willing to let tradition go…I’m stubborn like that!

I suppose I’m clinging to a simpler time.  Diggin’ in my heels, if you will.  A time where if a neighbor knocked on the door, you invited them in despite your messy kitchen.  A time where we had friends and family over for dinner and we all cooked–I mean really cooked–not just threw in some slice and bake cookies.  A time where we were not distracted by an incoming text and felt compelled to look at it while having a conversation face to face with someone else.  For crying out loud, this is terrible pragmatic judgment!

BE the memories.  Say it, Do it, Live it.  Protect tradition and may your Sunday Dinners be bountiful and filled with J O Y.  Oh and there’s ALWAYS room at my table. (reference to Heather Price MacFadyen’s God Centered Mom post—I couldn’t find the link 😦

Love to you all.


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