soul food

Three times today ... maybe five ... maybe a dozen, my thoughts have turned toward tonight, when we fellowship-moths will gather around the Light, and fill ourselves up with food and laughter and the Word.

Mark will arrive first, of course. He's the Spaghetti Man. And because he's wired that way, he'll have the table up, the burners lit, the water boiling, and sauce on the way in about half the time it would take the rest of us. It's the same automatic pilot he uses to juggle two windows of orders at his espresso stand while still managing to chat with dual customers and nod at the two lines of cars waiting semi-patiently for their turn.

Tera and I will mix up the Caesar salad, and cut and pile hefty chunks of soft French bread.

As others arrive, we'll hear reports about what we've all been doing in the hours we're forced forced to be apart. Josh and Nate will tell about their baseball games. Duncan and Amber, who think my name is "Danny" (and I hope they never figure out the truth), will hug me hello and bring me shoes that need tying. I'll get a hug from Pam before she heads in to set up the projector. Debbie will drift in, tired from a workday that began at 3:00 a.m., but happy to be among family. Word is, Kathy might bring more of those amazing buttercream/chocolate cupcakes from her dowtown Seattle espresso shop. We'll watch for that. The Harris duo will be there, and the Heaths, and the Ramoses, and the Watsons and Scougales. Bobby will bring his new bride, Brenda. The Kellys will be there ... and maybe the Kelleys. Sharon. Rob. A neighbor boy, who has recently started coming. Van and Bruce, Ian and Ted. And all the rest of this crazy crew. We'll chat ... and we'll wait ... and when the clock says "Eat," we'll pray, pass the styrofoam plates, and get in a long, polite line.

The food will be great, as always. (Mark has it down) The conversation will be punctuated with lots of laughter, as always. (We're a decorum-less bunch). And when it's all been said and done and eaten, we'll move ourselves from the Italian-scented room to the room filled with guitar strums, and praise, and prayer. We'll unlatch, unzip, or unsnap our Bibles, open to the Psalms, and get our second--and even better--feeding of the night.

Two hours to go. I can barely wait.

God, how You've blessed us with this lovely, loving family ... and how abundantly You feed us.