Storyteller Farm

Grass-Fed Beef in Ridgefield, WA: Local Pasture-Raised Cuts You Can Trust

Fri, 13 Mar 2026 14:00:00 GMT

Grass-Fed Beef in Ridgefield, WA: Local Pasture-Raised Cuts You Can Trust

Grass-fed beef in Ridgefield, WA from Storyteller Farm offers steaks, roasts, ground beef, sausage, stew meat, and bulk shares raised humanely on pasture without growth hormones.

How Is Grass-Fed Beef Raised at Storyteller Farm?

Cattle graze naturally on pasture with access to clean water and free-choice minerals throughout their lives.

Brett and Jessica Haberman run Storyteller Farm on their family property purchased in 2018. The cattle spend their days outdoors, eating grass and moving across pasture. This approach supports animal health and land stewardship without relying on growth hormones or grain finishing.

The farm follows an organically-minded model that prioritizes natural grazing patterns. Cattle remain on open pasture year-round where they build muscle and fat on a diet of fresh forage. If you want beef raised with attention to animal welfare and environmental care, you can find grass-fed beef services in Ridgefield, WA through the farm's online store.

What Are the Nutritional Benefits of Grass-Fed Beef?

Grass-fed beef is naturally leaner and contains higher levels of beta carotene, vitamin E, and omega-3 fatty acids than grain-fed beef.

Because cattle at Storyteller Farm eat only pasture, their meat develops a different nutrient profile. The beta carotene gives the fat a slightly yellow tint, and the omega-3 content is elevated compared to conventional beef. Vitamin E levels also rise when cattle consume fresh grasses.

These nutrients occur naturally in the diet of grazing animals. You do not need supplements or additives to achieve these benefits. Families looking for leaner cuts with naturally occurring vitamins often prefer grass-fed options for weeknight dinners and meal prep.

Which Cuts Can You Order Online?

Available cuts include steaks like flank and sirloin, roasts such as chuck and brisket, ground beef, smoked sausage, stew meat, and bulk beef shares.

You can browse the farm store online and add individual cuts to your cart. Steaks work well for grilling or pan searing. Roasts are ideal for slow cooking or smoking. Ground beef fits into tacos, burgers, chili, and pasta dishes.

Smoked beef sausage offers a ready-to-cook protein for breakfast or dinner. Stew meat performs well in soups and braised meals. Bulk shares provide a variety of cuts from a single animal, often delivering better value for families who want to stock their freezer. Orders are placed online, and you schedule pickup directly from the Ridgefield farm.

Do Clark County Families Prefer Local Beef Pickup?

Many families in Clark County choose farm pickup to see where their beef is raised and to avoid shipping costs.

Storyteller Farm sits in rural Ridgefield, where Brett grew up locally. Customers from nearby Vancouver, Battle Ground, and Camas drive to the farm to collect their orders. This model lets you meet the producers and ask questions about grazing practices or upcoming availability.

Farm pickup also reduces packaging waste and keeps the product cold until you arrive. Families appreciate the transparency of knowing exactly where their beef comes from. Scheduling pickup is straightforward through the online system, and you can coordinate a time that fits your week. For nearby residents searching for quality beef near me, beef roasts services in Ridgefield, WA and other cuts are available with advance ordering.

Stock Your Freezer with Pasture-Raised Beef

Storyteller Farm provides healthy, locally raised beef that supports your family's meals and connects you to responsible farming practices.

Browse available cuts online and place your order for farm pickup. Experience pasture-raised beef from Storyteller Farm in Ridgefield, WA and discover the difference in flavor and quality.

5 Prayers for When You Feel Out of Place

Wed, 26 Nov 2025 00:40:00 GMT

There are seasons when belonging feels fragile. Maybe you’re the new one in the room, trying to make small talk that feels anything but small. Maybe you’re in a season of change, with a new job, new town, or new church, and your heart is aching for home. Or maybe you’re surrounded by people but still carrying that quiet, unsettled question: Where do I fit?

In those moments, prayer has a way of steadying us. It turns our eyes away from what we can’t control and back toward the one who never changes. It reminds us that we are known, seen, and loved, even when we feel like we’re standing on the outside looking in.

Here are five simple prayers for the days when you feel out of place.

1. Prayer for God’s Nearness

“But as for me, it is good to be near God.
I have made the Sovereign Lord my refuge;
I will tell of all your deeds.” Psalm 73:28

When belonging feels distant, nearness to God is our truest home.

2. Prayer for Courage to Connect

“For the Spirit God gave us does not make us timid, but gives us power, love, and self-discipline.” 2 Timothy 1:7

Belonging often starts with a small act of courage. One word. One hello. One simple moment that breaks the ice and lets grace in.

3. Prayer for Confidence in Identity

“Yet to all who did receive him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God.” John 1:12

When we know who we are, we stop hustling for belonging and start living from it.

4. Prayer for a Heart that Welcomes Others

“Accept one another, then, just as Christ accepted you, in order to bring praise to God.” Romans 15:7

Hospitality begins in the heart long before it reaches the table.

5. Prayer for Strength in Loneliness

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” Psalm 34:18

Even in loneliness, you are held. His presence is not a faraway comfort; it is a living nearness that breathes peace into the quiet places.

A Belonging That Never Shifts

These prayers may not erase the ache of feeling out of place, but they gently guide us back to a belonging that doesn’t depend on circumstance. A belonging that anchors us in Christ.

So if you’re feeling uncertain today, take heart. The same God who knit you together also goes with you. And as He steadies your heart, may you carry that assurance to someone else who needs to hear the same thing—you belong.

Strawberry Bone Broth Popsicles

Mon, 16 Jun 2025 05:28:00 GMT

Jump to Recipe

Believe it or not, not every freezer mishap ends in disappointment. Sometimes, they spark something unexpectedly creative. Something that gets your brain turning and makes you step back and say, “Well, that turned out better than I thought!”

That’s exactly what happened when a container of bone broth fell out of the top shelf of the freezer, landed hard on the floor while I was packing for the Farmer’s Market. It hit just right and shattered into pieces. It was so frustrating! I can’t sell a broken container, so I scooped it up, put it in a bowl in the fridge, and told myself I would figure it out later.

But even tucked away in the refrigerator, that broken container of broth kept nagging at me.

It was out of sight but not out of mind. You see, it hit 90 degrees that day, and a steaming cup of broth was the last thing I wanted. It also made me rethink trying to sell bone broth during the summer. How can I sell this during market season if I can’t stand the thought of it myself?

How can we keep bone broth relevant during the summer months? After all, the benefits don’t change with the seasons. Our bodies still need nourishment, even if we’re not craving hot soup. Bone broth is packed with so many benefits, like gut-healing collagen, immune-boosting minerals, and nourishing protein. I don’t want to miss the opportunity to use it well.

So, I tried something different.

Bone Broth Popsicles.

Hear me out. All the beneficial properties but in a fun, summery form.

I blended our 22 fluid ounce deli container of Grass Fed Beef and Fresh Herb bone broth with four cups of fresh strawberries and a half cup of local, raw honey. The strawberry flavor complemented the thyme and rosemary in the bone broth well. My strawberries were very ripe, and combined with the savoriness of the broth, it felt very heavy. I added two tablespoons of lemon juice and blended again. The lemon juice added a light zip to the mixture. Perfection!

Next, I poured it into my popsicle mold and popped them in the freezer. My mold makes ten popsicles.

I had some mixture leftover that I poured into an ice cube tray and froze also. Looking back, I could have stored the mixture in the fridge and refilled my mold when the first set was good and frozen. But who has the patience for that, right?

This recipe was approved by all of my kids. We aren’t a particularly crunchy family; I do let them eat regular, full-sugar popsicles in the summer. So the fact that they loved these is a good sign that they are all-around kid-friendly.

If you try this recipe, let me know what you think! I plan to try a few different versions this summer with raspberries and blackberries later in the season. I think a peach version would be delicious as well.

Strawberry Bone Broth Popsicles

Prep Time

10 mins

CookTime

6 hrs

Servings: 10

22 oz Bone Broth
4 cups Strawberries
1/2 cup Honey
2 tbsp Lemon juice (optional)

Ingredients

Method

Add all ingredients into an electric blender.
Blend until well incorporated.
Pour into popsicle molds of choice. Ice cube trays will do in a pinch.
Freeze until solid.

Exploring New Cuisines

Wed, 19 Feb 2025 09:26:10 GMT

Traveling offers a wonderful opportunity to discover and appreciate the culinary delights of various cultures. I’ve had the pleasure of visiting countries like China, the Bahamas, Mexico, Peru, Greece, and many regions across the United States, and I must say that some of my most cherished meals have come from these experiences.

I absolutely adore authentic Mexican-style tacos; they are my absolute favorite. A freshly made tortilla filled with pollo, onions, and cilantro is simply unbeatable. There are local spots near my husband and me that serve these delicious tacos, making every visit a treat. It’s not just about enjoying our favorite tacos—my husband loves street corn and horchata too—but also about the time spent together, chatting and sharing meals with friends and family.

Exploring new cuisines not only satisfies the taste buds but also opens a window into the heart and soul of a culture. In Greece, I was mesmerized by the simplicity and freshness of a classic Greek salad, bursting with ripe tomatoes, crisp cucumbers, and creamy feta cheese. The vibrant flavors seemed to capture the essence of the Mediterranean sunshine.

Becca created Stacked Intent with a clear mission: to help individuals become the best, most authentic version of themselves. This Life Education business, founded by the vibrant and passionate Becca Stackhouse-Morson, provides the tools, strategies, and inspiration individuals need to make powerful decisions about self-care and personal growth. The idea is simple but profound: when you have a healthy relationship with yourself, every aspect of your life improves.

Becca is not only the CEO and Founder of Stacked Intent, LLC, she’s also a Certified Family Life Educator (CFLE), Jiu Jitsu & Self-Defense Instructor, and RYT-200 Yoga Instructor. With a Master of Science in Family Studies and a Bachelor’s in Interdisciplinary Studies with a Social Science Focus from the University of North Alabama, she combines academic expertise with practical experience.

Stacked Intent offers a range of resources, courses, and worksheets designed to help individuals stay true to themselves and confidently navigate life’s challenges. With tools like the Money Personality Quiz, 30-Day Self-Affirmation Challenge, and Money Date Checklist, Stacked Intent empowers personal growth and authenticity. Courses such as Building a Strong Relationship with Yourself and Cracking Life’s Code guide individuals on their journey to becoming their truest selves, step by step.

To find out more, check out Stacked Intent resources , website , blog , speaking engagements , Stacked Intent Course Suite , podcast , Facebook , and Instagram .

Sign up to get the weekly Stories from the Supper Table post delivered straight to your inbox — and receive your free set of 32 Printable Conversation Cards.

These cards include hand-selected questions designed to spark meaningful conversations and deepen connection around the table.

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Food has a magical way of connecting us, transcending borders and language, and creating unforgettable experiences that linger long after the last bite. Whether it’s a shared family recipe passed down through generations, a street food adventure in a bustling foreign market, or a lavish banquet with friends, each meal tells a story. The aroma of spices, the vibrant colors of fresh produce, and the harmonious blend of flavors can transport us to distant lands and evoke cherished memories. In every culture, food serves as a universal language that brings people together, celebrating diversity and fostering understanding. It’s in these moments, around the table, that we find common ground and forge bonds that enrich our lives.

This highlights the importance of forging connections that link the past, present, and future at the tables where we share meals. Through traditions, values, and stories exchanged during these gatherings, we continue to learn from one another. One of my favorite parts of traveling is engaging with people from different cultures to discover what they hold dear. Embracing these elements enriches your human experiences as you navigate through diverse encounters.

By sharing meals with new friends or acquaintances, you gain a deeper understanding of their worldviews and customs. Each dish tells a story, and each flavor carries a piece of history, offering a unique glimpse into the lives of those who prepared it. Whether it’s a traditional family recipe passed down through generations or a modern twist on a classic dish, the act of sharing food becomes a universal language that transcends borders.

As you savor these moments, you also contribute to the creation of new memories and stories. The laughter, conversations, and even the silence shared around the table become part of your personal tapestry. These experiences not only broaden your perspective but also foster empathy and compassion, reminding you of the shared humanity that connects us all.

New Year New Connections

Wed, 22 Jan 2025 20:31:00 GMT

Welcome to the New Year! As you begin this fresh chapter, carve out time for meaningful conversations around the table. Choose one night each week or month that suits your schedule best for quality family time. Make it a non-negotiable commitment to prioritize time together this year. Allow your family the opportunity to bond, create lasting memories, and engage in heartfelt discussions.

Set the scene with delicious meals that everyone can enjoy, perhaps giving each family member a chance to choose the menu or contribute a dish. Consider introducing conversation starters or fun themes to keep the dialogue lively and inclusive. Turn off electronic devices to ensure everyone is fully present, fostering a space where laughter and stories can flow freely.

As these gatherings become a cherished tradition, you’ll find they not only strengthen relationships but also provide a comforting rhythm to the year. Embrace this time as a gift to connect, reflect, and grow together, creating a tapestry of shared experiences that will be treasured for years to come. You can do this by talking about positive topics such as recent life events, shared interests, upcoming travel plans, hobbies that those at your table are having a blast with favorite meals, or even childhood memories that are your favorites.

Let’s explore some engaging topics for conversation at the dinner table. Encourage each person to share highlights from their day and discuss their favorite moments. You can also delve into current interests or hobbies, like how I’m starting to enjoy watercolor painting and had a great time discussing it with a friend recently. Another option is to talk about upcoming events happening in your local area or across the country. What about travel? You can inquire about future trips others are planning or ask about their favorite experiences from recent vacations. There are countless conversations waiting to unfold at your table, but to make this happen. It’s essential to set aside technology and enjoy quality time with your loved ones!

I suggest that one of your discussions focus on selecting a word of the year. This can help establish your goals and provide a clear direction for the upcoming year. Additionally, it creates an opportunity for you to check in with each other throughout the year and share your progress. I personally have chosen self-acceptance for my word this year and I look forward to sharing with my partner throughout the year about how I am practicing self-acceptance through each situation we go through this year. If you would like to read more in-depth about owning your word of the year check out this blog post.

I find that the time around the table can be one of my favorite times whether we are sharing the Chicken Alfredo that was just created or ended up playing a board game to create priceless memories and conversations with those family and friends that ended up being at the table. Create your cherishing moments this year and put your technology away.

To find out more, check out Stacked Intent resources , website , blog , speaking engagements , Stacked Intent Course Suite , podcast , Facebook , and Instagram .

Sign up to get the weekly Stories from the Supper Table post delivered straight to your inbox — and receive your free set of 32 Printable Conversation Cards.

These cards include hand-selected questions designed to spark meaningful conversations and deepen connection around the table.

Have a story of your own to share? Learn more about the heart behind the series and find the submission link in this post .

Connection through the Thanksgiving Table

Wed, 27 Nov 2024 09:30:37 GMT

Gathering around the Thanksgiving table is a familiar experience for many of us, yet some may find themselves sitting alone. I encourage you to take a moment to reflect on your journey and consider how these meals have shaped your life. Think about the individuals who have graced your Thanksgiving table over the years and contemplate the significance of the food being served.

If you find yourself alone this Thanksgiving, remember that the spirit of the holiday is about gratitude and connection. Reach out to friends or family through a phone call or video chat, or perhaps join a community event. Sometimes, the most unexpected connections can bring the greatest joy. Whether surrounded by loved ones or enjoying a moment of solitude, take this time to appreciate the simple pleasures—the warmth of a home-cooked meal, the comfort of familiar flavors, and the promise of new memories to be made. Thanksgiving is not just a day; it’s a reminder to cherish the present and hold hope for the future.

Reflecting on my past, I (Becca) remember the large Thanksgiving gatherings at my maternal family’s home. The memories revolve not only around the delicious food we enjoyed but also the time spent with cousins, exploring and playing all day. Another memorable year with my immediate family, we celebrated at the beach, welcoming friends who needed a place to spend the weekend. Our table has always been open to friends and family who wished to join our holiday meal, creating a sense of community. This has created a sense in me to make sure people have a place to go if they happen to be far off from family.

To find out more, check out Stacked Intent resources , website , blog , speaking engagements , Stacked Intent Course Suite , podcast , Facebook , and Instagram .

Sign up to get the weekly Stories from the Supper Table post delivered straight to your inbox — and receive your free set of 32 Printable Conversation Cards.

These cards include hand-selected questions designed to spark meaningful conversations and deepen connection around the table.

Have a story of your own to share? Learn more about the heart behind the series and find the submission link in this post .

Through these experiences, I’ve realized that our Thanksgiving spread often looked different from others; we rarely had casseroles, but we consistently featured a variety of desserts. This highlights the importance of staying true to your authentic self during holiday gatherings. Following an 80/20 rule can be beneficial: if you strive to maintain a balanced approach 80% of the time, you’ll truly enjoy the less-perfect 20% of Thanksgiving Day without feeling guilty about straying from a healthy lifestyle.

My (Ashleigh) family’s Thanksgiving has always been my favorite part of the year. I have a large extended family, with many aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces, and nephews, and we rarely had the opportunity to get together unless it was Thanksgiving, which we spent at our family farm. Hosted in a rustic old cookhouse, some of my favorite memories were of walking in the screened porch door, carrying Daddy’s green bean casserole (with Chex cereal on top instead of fried onions for a lighter flare), with Mom following with her signature pear salad (you know, the kind with a dollop of mayonnaise and a cherry? A true Southern classic!) We always had several different types of turkey-baked, roasted, and fried, as well as ham and BBQ, surrounded by an array of mismatched casserole dishes wrapped in foil and holding every variety of casserole you could imagine! My favorites were always the green bean, broccoli, and sweet potato. The dessert table was outside, which you had to walk by as you were waiting in line, so you had plenty of time to consider all of your options and how much room you needed to save.

While there are always many tasty dishes to look forward to, my favorite part about gathering at the farm has always been the circle that is made before we eat, joining hands to reflect on the blessing of being able to be together another year. I love looking around to see how our circle has changed, with little hands holding onto bigger ones, and older ones intertwined with younger ones. This Thanksgiving, take a moment to look around your circle and count the blessing of each one who is in it.

Thanksgiving looks different for everyone, and that’s what makes it meaningful. For some, it’s about big family gatherings with tons of food; for others, it’s a quieter day to reflect or connect with friends. However you choose to celebrate, or even if you don’t, it’s all about honoring what feels right to you. If you’re celebrating solo, maybe reach out to a friend, join a community dinner, take some time for yourself, or spend time with loved ones, take a second to appreciate the people around you. Thanksgiving reminds us that everyone’s traditions are unique, and that’s something to celebrate. Whether surrounded by people or enjoying a moment on your own, this day is a chance to embrace gratitude in a way that feels authentic to you.

Ashleigh Geurin is a nutrition expert and co-host at Stacked Intent, as well as a Family & Consumer Sciences (FACS) County Extension Agent for the University of Georgia in Candler and Evans County. She is dedicated to promoting community well-being and provides the latest, research-based insights on nutrition. Ashleigh was recognized as a top-four finalist for the Rural Leader 40 Under 40 award.

Ashleigh is a Certified Nutrition and Wellness Educator credentialed by the American Association of Family and Consumer Sciences. With a Master of Science in Community Nutrition and a Bachelor of Science in Family and Consumer Sciences Education with an emphasis in Foods and Nutrition from the University of Georgia, she combines academic expertise with practical experience.

Whether you’re an individual seeking to enhance your health or part of the broader community, Ashleigh is here to support you. She is committed to keeping you informed in the ever-evolving field of nutrition, aiming to equip you with the knowledge necessary for making wise, informed decisions.

Ashleigh simplifies nutritional science, making it accessible and practical. You can look forward to her sharing tips on maintaining a balanced diet and developing healthy habits that become second nature.

With a strong passion for agricultural education and outreach, Ashleigh’s dedication is evident in her work. Her expertise and commitment to empowering farmers make her an invaluable resource for our community.

Seasons at the Table

Wed, 20 Nov 2024 09:59:21 GMT

I grew up having dinner every evening around our family table. My mom made sure we all sat and ate together at the end of the day. So many memories were built around the table with my family that we still recall today. I don’t remember our last “family” meal at that table. We all at one point moved on into our seasons of new tables and new family memories.

In my own immediate family, I remember as the mom, trying to make dinner a special time as we gathered from the busyness of the day, giving thanks to God and connecting with each other. I don’t even remember when that last family meal happened. The meal and time when it was just my husband and kids. It happened without recognition or fanfare that it was the last time we would sit and share a meal. I do miss those times around the table. Laughing, quoting movies, telling “dad jokes” and all the fun and frivolity that comes with “family” time.

My family table looks a bit different now. It’s just my husband and me. We share the day’s events and our thoughts and dreams. It’s wonderful to share the table with a loved one and I do cherish these moments even while I miss the ones with my kids. We do still get together with our kids (most of them anyway) and share the table with them and our grandkids! Those are lovely, wonderful times spent together. Every summer, we have the opportunity to have most of our grandkids for a few days and we are privileged to once again experience a full table with those fun and energetic loved littles! This table is once again full of laughter, love, and life!

We all experience seasonal changes. We are living with our parents, then we are the parents, then we are an “empty nest” couple, and then, we may eventually be single again. I bring us to this season because I see that happening to my mom. Every Friday I go to my mom’s assisted living place and sit with her as she eats her dinner. She always thanks me for sitting with her. What she once experienced as a full family table has now become a table for one or two. When I look around the room, I see so many individuals sitting alone. I guess this is the final season at the family table. Sitting alone at a table with only the memories of days gone by.

Believe me, I am not saying these things to gain sympathy, I am stating it as I see the seasons I have gone through and the ones I am heading towards. I am saying this so that I might encourage you to hold on a little tighter to those “last moments” the ones that slip away unnoticed and soon forgotten. Hold on to those times at the family table! And, if you are able, make those times intentional! With the Holidays coming up, be sure to make this a season of remembering the gathering of those gone before us, or maybe those unable to get to the table, or those who no longer have a family table, but share a room with single tables who miss the gatherings.

As you each enjoy your season at the family table may you remember these words by George Washington Carver, “How far you go in life depends on your being tender with the young, compassionate with the aged, sympathetic with the striving, and tolerant of the weak and strong. Because someday in life you will have been all of these.”

Blessings to you at your family table!

Sign up to get the weekly Stories from the Supper Table post delivered straight to your inbox — and receive your free set of 32 Printable Conversation Cards.

These cards include hand-selected questions designed to spark meaningful conversations and deepen connection around the table.

Have a story of your own to share? Learn more about the heart behind the series and find the submission link in this post .

Having been raised in a Christian home, I came to know the Lord personally at the young age of 5. There have been many roads and journeys the Lord has taken me on in the over 60 years I have walked with Him. Some of those roads have been on the mountain tops and some have taken me to dark valleys and through it all He has been faithful. I met and married my husband at the young age of 21 and we will be celebrating 44 years of life together this summer! We have 4 children (4 “in-loves”) and as of now, we have 12 grandchildren. My joy is spending time with my family, and I am known for my “Mimi Camps” that I have been having for the past 12 years this year! It is always a highlight of my summer! I get to spend three days and two nights with all my grands that are 5 and up and that always gives us great memories of fun together.

Over the past years, I have also experienced the joys and sorrows of aging parents/grandparents and having to say goodbye to a few. I miss those who have passed dearly. God is still teaching me how to deal with this stage of life/death as my mom is 93 and very ready to be Home. I started my writing journey during Covid in 2020 as I was, like everyone else, shut away at home and desired an outlet to reach and encourage people with thoughts and ramblings that would point us to Christ and to trust and rest in Him. That is when my “Random Thoughts and Ramblings” blog was created. Last year I would write a “word” to uplift and encourage, and maybe share a bit of wisdom or insight to those who would read my words. My hope is to hopefully bless those needing a reminder to look to Christ in all seasons of life through my blog, Facebook, and Instagram.

Two years ago, I “retired” from 20 years of teaching piano in my home to hundreds of students who have left indelible impressions on my heart…I do miss them and feel so much joy when I hear of their musical journey. Since retiring, I have been learning how to navigate this new “season” of life. God is so good in directing me to be involved in my church and being able to be with family and friends.

My hope and prayer for the future is to continue to write devotionals and that if it encourages just one person to look to Christ for peace and rest, God will be glorified. I am hoping that at some point, I will be able to make a hard copy of my writings to give to anyone who is in need of a little encouragement and hope. In my free time, I love to read, play Pickleball, paint, and garden and I’m always up for a cup of coﬀee and great conversation!

You can find me at Random Thoughts and Ramblings on Facebook, @mizenersharon on Instagram, and at www.sharonmizenerwrites.wordpress.com

Savor Every Moment: Cooking for Time, Health, and Family

Wed, 13 Nov 2024 10:07:22 GMT

Time; we either need more of it or have too much of it. Personally, there are many different areas in my life that time touches. The time it takes me to get ready in the morning, the time it takes me to sit in traffic to work, the time it takes me to clean my house or the time I spend thinking about how much time I have to sit on the couch with my cup of coffee and watch Gilmore Girls before I have to be somewhere.

Another big part of my life where time has had an impact in my life with is food.

In my early twenties, I thought I never had time to create elaborate meals nor did I pay attention to what types of food I was putting into my body. I would opt for protein bars, muffins, or anything packaged up for quick consumption. Coffee and energy drinks also became my most consumed beverages as I was working graveyard shifts at the time. For a brief time this “worked” for me, but then my health took a drastic turn.

I started getting sick a lot. I started losing my hair, and dealt with extreme dizziness, anxiety, cystic acne, along with a medley of hormonal issues. Medications didn’t work, nor did I want to keep taking them as I felt they covered up what was truly going on. This led me to become more proactive about my health which included learning about my body, starting with food and how it could be hindering my health.

After reading a few health books and doing some research I started making subtle changes that improved my health but I still would opt for the quick, ready-to-eat packaged meals and my health yet again fell by the wayside.

That is until I had my daughter. After she was born, time transformed for me. My outlook on my health changed quickly and I quickly learned that the time I spent taking care of myself and my health meant more time with my daughter.

So, I started cooking even more, borrowed cookbooks from the library, tried copious amounts of new recipes, and even went back to school to learn more about functional nutrition and hormones so I could support the health of not only myself, but my family and those around me.

In turn, we got sick less, slept better, experienced fewer hives and rashes, my hair started growing back, plus so much more! Making time for food, also inadvertently impacted our health in more than just physical ways. Our bond as a family got stronger. We sat down to meals more, picked out fun recipes to try, learned fractions, and how to read directions.

The time spent when it came to the meals my family and I created and ate together also equaled more time where we felt safe, supported, and connected. Especially after my daughter got diagnosed with severe food allergies, but that’s a story for another time.

Looking back, I realize what a blessing it was that my body let me know what wasn’t working so that I could reset and focus on what matters most – which is time with those I love most, including myself.

Sign up to get the weekly Stories from the Supper Table post delivered straight to your inbox — and receive your free set of 32 Printable Conversation Cards.

These cards include hand-selected questions designed to spark meaningful conversations and deepen connection around the table.

Have a story of your own to share? Learn more about the heart behind the series and find the submission link in this post .

Tiffany is a Functional Nutritional Therapy Practitioner and Functional Hormone Specialist who is passionate about sharing all things health and wellness. Tiffany lives in Washington state where she also works as a Registered Sleep Technician. When she is not working she enjoys kayaking, exploring the forest, reading, volunteering, and spending time with her husband and daughter. You can find her on Instagram .

Baking Your Way to Heartfelt Connections

Wed, 06 Nov 2024 06:28:54 GMT

Research in psychology reveals that even when individuals express that they are full, they still will make space for dessert. This is attributed to a phenomenon called sensory-specific satiety, where new flavors, textures, and presentations rekindle the appetite.

While many shy away from baking due to the need for precise measurements, I have always found immense joy in sharing my baked creations that don’t necessarily follow the recipe closely.

In my family, I was the one who thrived in the kitchen, inspired by my mom, who nurtured our love for creating. She often baked cinnamon rolls or cookies with all three of us gathered around her, teaching us along the way. This experience instilled in all of us a passion for crafting the food we enjoyed, from cooking to baking. She showed us how to explore the cabinet and taught us to adapt recipes when we didn’t have every ingredient on hand.

For me, baking is a source of joy and a way to create the perfect treats that others will love. Although there are times when I refrain from enjoying my own creations due to dietary restrictions, I enjoy cooking for others, preparing their favorite dishes in just the right way to make them feel valued and acknowledged for their tastes.

This definitely relates to the love languages that people possess! Viewing baking through this perspective reveals five options: acts of service, quality time, receiving gifts, physical touch, and words of affirmation. Each of these love languages fulfills individuals in unique ways. For someone who values words of affirmation, simply saying that the dessert they baked is delicious will resonate. Meanwhile, a person who appreciates acts of service will enjoy preparing desserts for you. Those who cherish receiving gifts will look forward to receiving the dessert you made for them. A friend who values quality time will want to share the experience of dining out for dessert together. Lastly, someone who enjoys physical touch may want to hold you like a cherished dessert.

Choose how you wish to view desserts, as they play a delightful role in enhancing meals. Personally, I lean towards acts of service, as I love crafting desserts for others. I accepted my husband’s challenge to create the cake of the month from Southern Living’s 2024 collection, resulting in a new cake for him, his co-workers, friends, and family each month. It has been a joy to experiment with new recipes and add my personal touch to each cake!

Baking has evolved into a beloved tradition, a means to connect and celebrate with the people I care about. Each cake I create is more than just a sweet treat; it symbolizes the relationships we nurture and the memories we craft together. Whether it’s a simple vanilla sponge or a grand multi-layered cake, the real beauty lies in the happiness it spreads.

As I embark on this delightful journey, I invite everyone to discover their own love language through desserts. Whether you bake, share, or simply enjoy, let the sweetness of each experience enhance your life and the lives of those around you.

Perhaps it’s time to embrace your childhood dream of indulging in dessert before your main course, as it can bring about positive physiological and psychological effects! Relish this as an adult, especially since you didn’t get to choose dessert first as a child. With a balanced approach, you may even find that starting with dessert helps you consume fewer calories overall!

Through the journey of baking and exploring your love language, you will discover an authentic version of yourself by connecting with desserts in a way that resonates with you.

To find out more, check out Stacked Intent resources , website , blog , speaking engagements , Stacked Intent Course Suite , podcast , Facebook , and Instagram .

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Have a story of your own to share? Learn more about the heart behind the series and find the submission link in this post .

Nourishing the Heart of Gatherings with Food

Wed, 02 Oct 2024 06:33:58 GMT

Before diving into today’s blog, I invite you to reflect on a cherished memory of a gathering that positively influenced your life. What was the event? Who attended? What made it impactful for you? A gathering is more than just providing food; it’s about creating an experience that brings people together.

I fondly remember my childhood when my family opened our home to anyone who wanted to share a meal. Imagine a kitchen filled with the delightful aromas of vegetables, dough, and sauces, complemented by the sound of laughter as we crafted our own pizzas. This welcoming spirit, nurtured by my parents, turned our home into a hub for gatherings. Soon enough, our house became the favorite destination for basketball meet-ups with both girls’ and boys’ teams, and families enjoyed pizza nights or New Year’s Eve chili parties.

As I transitioned into adulthood, I carried this lesson into my jiu-jitsu journey. Our coach at 10th Planet Perry was featured in the second season of the Professional Grappling Federation (PGF). For nine weeks, we gathered every Friday night to attend class and then came to my house for dinner, followed by watching that week’s PGF episode to see how our coach performed. This routine not only brought us together over meals but also fostered conversations and deepened friendships beyond the mat, creating lasting bonds among us.

These gatherings became a cornerstone of my personal growth, a testament to the joy of community and the strength found in togetherness. Each event was filled with laughter, stories, and moments that bonded us in ways words often fail to capture. The aroma of home-cooked meals wafting through the air and the warm embraces shared at the end of the night created an atmosphere of love and acceptance.

Through these experiences, I discovered the profound impact of simply being present for one another. It wasn’t just about the food or the activities; it was about the memories we created and the relationships we nurtured. In planning these gatherings, I learned the delicate balance of listening to the needs of others while also contributing my own unique touch, ensuring everyone felt valued and welcome.

Reflecting on these gatherings, I’ve come to understand that they were more than mere social occasions; they were invaluable life lessons. They taught me the importance of leading with kindness, embracing others, and creating environments where everyone feels valued. These experiences have profoundly influenced my journey, motivating me to nurture connections and build communities wherever I go. Such relationships can help you discover your true self while cherishing the moments spent with those who may only briefly share your table, as your paths intersect for just a season. However, this doesn’t diminish the lasting impact you can have on one another’s lives, which can resonate throughout your lifetime.

The takeaway from this reflection is that providing food at gatherings serves as a foundational step toward fostering heartwarming, transformative relationships that may emerge in the spaces you create.

To find out more, check out Stacked Intent resources , website , blog , speaking engagements , Stacked Intent Course Suite , podcast , Facebook , and Instagram .

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More Than Just a Place to Eat

Wed, 25 Sep 2024 06:38:14 GMT

I’ve been going to Lang Van, a small Vietnamese restaurant in Charlotte, NC since I was four years old. For as long as I can remember, it’s been more than just a place to eat—it’s been the backdrop for so many moments and milestones in my life. Over the years, my family has celebrated birthdays, family dinners, and other special occasions there. Lang Van is where we marked each year and occasion with bowls of pho, fresh spring rolls, and the comforting hum of conversation that filled the air.

Lang Van also played a special role in one of the most important moments of my life. It’s where I got to introduce my parents to my husband’s parents back when we were dating. When it came time to pick a place for that all-important meeting, there was no other spot that made sense. The familiar faces of the servers, the cozy corner booth we always sat in, and the comforting food felt like the perfect setting for two families coming together. I still remember the sense of ease that settled over me as the night went on, the laughter flowing as smoothly as the conversations.

But my connection to Lang Van goes even deeper, back to when I was just a kid. Around the age of six or seven, I developed this quirky little habit of asking my parents if strangers could join us for dinner. As a family of three, we’d often get seated at larger tables. Sometimes, if there was a wait, I would look at the group standing behind us and ask, “Can they sit with us?” It started as innocent curiosity, but my parents would usually say yes. Some people accepted the offer with smiles, while others, understandably confused by a small child inviting them to join dinner, would kindly decline.

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Hannah Watanabe is the founder of Host Stand. With almost two decades of hospitality experience ranging from food and beverage, private household staffing as a household manager and nanny, and over 10 years in the wedding industry in various positions (event planning, catering, and wedding photography) she has a love for bespoke events and hospitality with feeling. In 2023 Hannah started challenging herself to not save the good stuff – open the good wine, have the caviar, light the expensive candle … these luxuries are meant to be enjoyed, but often times we put too much pressure on saving them for the right moment. But she believes any moment that is set aside to connect and celebrate with the people we love is the good stuff!

About day-to-day life – Hannah’s husband is her best friend and co-host, they have two doggos to keep the house feeling lived in, and they call Belmont, NC home. She enjoys finding excuses to host events, cooking, filling her bungalow-style kitchen with antiques, and her favorite cocktail is a mezcal Old Fashioned.

You can find Hannah on Instagram , her website , and her blog (coming soon!).

I’ll never forget one particular evening when we were being led to our favorite cozy corner of the restaurant. There was a couple waiting behind us, and as usual, I asked my parents if we could invite them to sit with us. They gave me the go-ahead, and to my delight, the couple said yes. I don’t remember their names, but I remember the woman vividly. She spoke passionately about the ballet, art, and her travels. Her stories seemed to float through the air like the aromatic spices filling the restaurant, colorful and full of life. We laughed and shared our meal, connecting in a way that felt effortless. Before long, it was time to say goodbye, but the memory of that evening stayed with me.

Looking back, I realize that my love for hospitality, good food, and time around the table was already starting to bloom. Even as a child, I believed that a stranger was just a friend you hadn’t met yet, and with my parents keeping a watchful eye, I got to see firsthand how sharing a meal could connect people. Each story I heard was a thread in the tapestry of shared human experience —some similar to my own, others wildly different, yet all equally meaningful.

In adulthood, I often joke with my husband that making friends isn’t as easy as it was when I was a kid. There’s something about the simplicity of childhood that allows you to reach out without hesitation, a quality I sometimes wish I could recapture. But every now and then, I think about how maybe I should embrace that same openness again. After all, food halls, open-concept breweries, and restaurants are all spaces where people naturally gather. I picture us sitting there, playing Jenga or sipping on drinks, striking up conversations with the people next to us.

Now, my husband and I are usually just a party of two. But every time I see an open seat, I’m reminded of the possibility of inviting someone new to join us. Who knows? Maybe, like at Lang Van all those years ago, we’ll meet someone with stories as rich and vibrant as the meals we share.

Lang Van has been a constant through so many phases of my life—from childhood wonder to adult reflection. And even now, as we sit together at dinner, there’s always the chance that someone new will pull up a chair and join the conversation, adding another story to the table.

Cookouts and Conversation

Wed, 18 Sep 2024 06:49:42 GMT

Grilling is probably the one thing in the summer that consistently brings my family together for meaningful conversations. Most days, we eat together but end up too hungry from our busy lives to say much—it’s more about getting food on the table and in our bellies. But that’s what makes the full family moments even more special. Grilling has this way of drawing everyone around while the food cooks, sneaking bites as things come off the grill, with the kids running around, asking “Is it ready yet?” for the hundredth time, and just being loud and happy.

This last cookout was one of those times where we got to really catch up—my parents, partner, friends, and me, all hanging out on the porch, talking about everything under the sun. What I love most about these conversations is the chance to see things from each other’s perspectives, to have your mind opened a bit, and to hear thoughts you wouldn’t have considered on your own. I’m only 23, and my parents are Gen X, so there’s always this cool dynamic when we chat, especially about how much the world has changed. They grew up with paper ads and landlines, while we’ve got the whole world in our pockets. It’s wild to hear how they view things now, having seen the shift from “real world” interactions to digital everything.

One of my favorite Grey’s Anatomy quotes is, “Sometimes you need to go back to the beginning to understand the end,” and it hits home for me in these moments. It reminds us that everything is connected. For my family, food is more than just a meal—it’s the spark for new ideas and deeper connections. I genuinely believe good food feeds your brain and body at the same time; it wakes you up, gets you thinking, and sets the stage for those “aha” moments.

During this cookout, we talked about my partner’s business venture and his big goals, then circled back to how my social media marketing business is going and what steps we can take to push our dreams forward. As younger parents, there’s definitely pressure to land on solid ground, but we’re driven by the idea of building something we’re passionate about. It helps that we’re on the same page, supporting each other’s ideas, and knowing that no dream is too big. My parents are great about fueling that mindset too—they’re all about taking the lessons of the past and using them to shape something better for the future.

By the end of the night, we all felt a sense of clarity and direction. We decided that, for now, we’d invest more time and effort into tightening up the back end of my business, with plans to get my partner’s ideas rolling in the next few months. I’d love to share more, but we’re keeping things under wraps until we’ve given them more of our focus. The most important takeaway was that we’re both working toward our dreams and have the support we need to make it happen.

These conversations—full of support, structure, and love—are exactly why these moments matter so much. It’s amazing what a little food, some good company, and the right setting can do to get everyone on the same page. Those are the moments that remind me we’re not just making dinner; we’re making progress, one meal at a time.

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Aspen Torres is a 23-year-old social media marketer from Southwest Washington who loves helping businesses find their audience and get people excited about their brand. A mom of two, Aspen juggles her passion for marketing with family life, often starting her days early with a cup of coffee in hand. She’s either on a client call, working on a content calendar, or enjoying a quiet moment with her favorite show, Grey’s Anatomy. Aspen loves finding new ways to improve the world around her, one project at a time. For more about Aspen, follow her on Instagram .

The Kitchen Embodies the True Essence of Authenticity

Wed, 11 Sep 2024 06:55:16 GMT

I’ve learned over the years that I came from a family who opened the cabinet to find the ingredients for creating what would become a meal, a special treat to bake, or to pull together a snack. This skill is one that was passed from both my parents, who learned it from being in the kitchen with their parents and grandparents. I’ve discovered that a key part of my authentic self is the ability to effortlessly create when hosting company, attending gatherings, or simply sharing with those in my life. It’s a skill that reflects the true essence of who I am. You might wonder how—well, it’s in these moments of creativity and connection that I feel most aligned with my genuine self.

I vividly remember going to my paternal grandparents’ house, where there was always a pound cake waiting on the counter and pancakes for breakfast, usually made by my Daddy-Pop. Coming home from college, I’d often find my dad in the kitchen on Saturday mornings, whipping up pancakes or waffles for breakfast. These are the memories that have shaped who I am in the kitchen today. How about you—what’s a warm memory you have from your childhood kitchen?

I’m sharing these experiences because, as I’ve gotten married and built new relationships, people have come to learn that part of who I am—my authentic self—shows up in the kitchen, whether it’s making a meal or baking a cake. Over the years, I’ve discovered a deep love for sharing food. I find joy in opening up the cabinets to create something special, or when loved ones—like my sister, brother, husband, mom, friends, or dad—send me recipes they’d like to try. It’s my way of giving back with the blessing of my talents from the kitchen. I’ve found that food not only nourishes but brings people together, creating moments where they can relax and enjoy a tasty meal.

These shared moments around food have become a cherished tradition, a way to connect deeply with those I love. Whether it’s recreating a beloved family recipe or experimenting with something entirely new, the kitchen becomes a space where bonds are strengthened, and memories are forged.

One of the most heartwarming aspects of cooking and baking is the joy it brings to others. There’s something profoundly fulfilling about seeing smiles light up around the dinner table, hearing the laughter that accompanies a shared meal, and knowing that what I’ve prepared has contributed to that happiness. It’s a form of love and care that transcends words, communicated through the flavors and aromas that fill the air.

When I think back to my childhood, the kitchen was always a hub of activity and warmth. It was a place where stories were shared, lessons were learned, and love was expressed in the most delicious ways. The clatter of pots and pans, the sizzle of something cooking on the stove, and the sweet, inviting scent of freshly baked goods are all woven into the fabric of my memories.

As I continue to grow and create new memories with my own family and friends, I hold these experiences close. They remind me of the importance of tradition, the value of sharing, and the simple yet profound joy that comes from preparing and enjoying food together. So, whether it’s a simple meal or a grand feast, I strive to bring a piece of my heart into everything I make. Julia Childs says it best, “People who love to eat are always the best people.”

To find out more, check out Stacked Intent resources , website , blog , speaking engagements , Stacked Intent Course Suite , podcast , Facebook , and Instagram .

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Plant Seeds of Community to Grow Neighbourly Friendships

Wed, 04 Sep 2024 07:04:37 GMT

There are things we do automatically without even thinking about it. Some things we observed as children became part of us, having grown up with them. And maybe you have grown up with traditions that you have now taken for your own. That’s happened to me when it comes to having visitors over or visiting others.

“You wouldn’t go to visit someone with empty hands,” my mum would say whilst searching for something we could take for those we were visiting. And so, I learned that it is culturally inappropriate to visit someone and not to take anything with you.

Social etiquette may tell me not to turn out at someone’s door empty-handed. But what do you do when you move to a different place and want to make friends or at least get to know your neighbours? “Should I go to visit every house on our street?” I thought when we moved house eight years ago. “Should I buy or maybe bake something and take it to each neighbour on the street?”

I wasn’t sure what to do, but I knew I would like to do something. ‘What about baking a cake or two and inviting our new neighbours to our house for drinks and cakes?’ I asked my husband. He agreed, so I wrote a note and popped it into each of our neighbour’s post boxes.

I must admit that as the time was nearing, I was getting more and more nervous. On the day I awoke thinking “What if no one turns up?” And even as the first neighbours knocked on the door, I found myself wondering, “What if they don’t like us?”

I was delighted an hour later when the sound of joy and laughter could be heard coming from our house. Most of our neighbours had made it. Whether it was their curiosity, kindness, or perhaps both, they had decided to accept our invitation and had their own questions.

Going to bed that night I was delighted the day had gone so well. I also wondered how many times I had not done something to avoid the risk of failure or putting myself outside of my comfort zone.

But that day showed me that I wasn’t the only one who had their own doubt and questions and that if we persevere something nice can come out of it. On this day the seeds were sown, and the trees were planted; the roots of several friendships were formed that have lasted until today and will hopefully do so into the future.

Even today, our welcoming party is often still a talking point when we get together. Our friendships have grown, with some neighbours more than others, but I’m so grateful that I didn’t cast the plan of organising a welcome party away with my first doubts.

The friendships we have formed in our neighbourhood have helped cultivate a sense of community. We have been living in our house for several years now and have enjoyed many get-togethers, barbeques and dinner parties with our neighbours. We even visited one couple in their holiday home abroad. What was once planted, we have continued to water over the years, and have allowed it to grow naturally.

Growing these friendships has enabled us to learn more about each other. After all, this was the idea behind inviting people to our home. So, we could get to know each other and help create a community where we are all happy to be living next to each other.

For me, inviting someone into my home is a way of showing trust and respect. And interpreting Solomon’s words in Proverbs 18:24, “A man that hath friends must show himself friendly,” (KJV), we must be willing to express our openness and friendliness. Of course, I wouldn’t want to expose our home to dangerous situations, but I had a feeling that by inviting our neighbours over to our home there was more to gain than lose.

And I’m glad I listened to that feeling.

Katy Parker is a trauma-informed well-being writer who integrates mental health and faith into her words. She is a mental health and grief advocate and mentor who was born in Slovakia, but lives in England (UK) and shares her journey of healing and hope on her Journeyofsmiley blog. Katy believes that God left her in this world for a reason, and during her recovery, she created the PTSD: My Story Project , a safe space for trauma survivors to share their stories and let others know they aren’t alone. She is also the creator of the Grief Stories series, giving a voice to grief and loss and providing support and comfort in hard times.

Her goal is to encourage and empower others on their healing journey. Katy believes that healing shouldn’t be a luxury and that everyone deserves a chance to heal. That’s why she created a free e-book, “ 7 Keys To Self-Healing, A Trauma Survivor’s Guide. ” Check out Katy’s Journeyofsmiley blog and get the keys to your healing. You can also find her on Instagram , Facebook , Pinterest , X (formerly Twitter) , and TikTok .

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These cards include hand-selected questions designed to spark meaningful conversations and deepen connection around the table.

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Family Reunion Fellowship

Wed, 28 Aug 2024 07:15:35 GMT

I come from a big family! My dad’s mom was one of nine siblings. They all grew up, married, and raised their families close to each other.

There were lots of family get-togethers, but the ones I remember most were the family reunions! These events would last all weekend long for some. Campers would line the perimeter of the yard.

We would meet new family members by marriage or birth. We would remember those we’ve lost over the years and celebrate any new and upcoming events.

Cousins played while adults reminisced, sharing photos, stories, and laughter with one another.

Activities would vary but often included fishing, swimming, group walks, yard games, and bonfires.

But the best times were the meal times. Our mouths would water as we smelled the grilling pork chops, chicken, prime rib, or fried fish. Makeshift tables were created from tall barrels and wood slabs covered with tablecloths. They held a smorgasbord as everyone would bring out their prepared items—whether tried and true recipes or new creations for us to sample.

When the food was ready, we would join in a big circle to count our number and say a prayer. The children and elders would fill their plates first.

Lawn chairs and tables would be scattered outside and everyone would have a place to dine together and converse.

As people went back for seconds or dessert, they had a chance to sit in a different location and catch up with someone new.

Time moved slowly and we did not rush through our meal. There was plenty of food for everyone. We savored each bite and the fellowship with one another. Most importantly, we were filled by being with family, many of whom we didn’t often get to spend time with. They helped us remember our roots, common traits, and the love and belonging that comes from a shared history and traditions.

Though there are fewer of these gatherings today, we have one that’s hosted each Labor Day weekend. Campers are still encouraged. The largest dinner meal is complete with a whole pig slow-roasted over an open pit served along with a variety of potluck items.

The invitation has been extended to include friends and others who have become family. And just like those reunions from times gone by, our hearts and souls are filled with fellowship and connection along with yummy food.

Becky Sims has a strong faith in Jesus and a love for writing encouraging letters to friends and others. She is the author of the PORCH CHAIR PRAYERS devotional blog and book series. She prays that her writing will help other women who are longing to grow closer to the Lord to gain hope and meaning in their lives while looking forward with confidence to eternity in heaven. Becky is a wife and mother, Hope*Writer, former teacher, and author. She is active in her church choir. She especially enjoys quiet time with the Lord and often spends time on her porch chair in prayer. You can find Becky on her website , blog , Amazon author page , Facebook , and Instagram .

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“And let us consider how to stir up one another to love and good works, not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day drawing near.” (Hebrews 10:24–25 ESV)

Lesson from a Lilac Bush

Mon, 26 Aug 2024 08:05:38 GMT

When I walked through the door, I could smell them before I saw them.

Lilacs — jars full of the cut blooms overflowed on the kitchen table. I inhaled deeply, one of my favorite fragrances and, because of this, one of my favorite flowers. My children had been cutting them from the yard and bringing them in, one handful after another.

I was given this lilac bush, along with a car full of other treasures, from a local nursery that was going out of business around the time we moved to the farm. We were busy with house renovations and massive repairs around the farm, but I still needed to dig the holes to plant everything we hauled home. I was very pregnant at the time and my sciatica prevented me from making the step-down motion it takes to break ground with a shovel.

All this to say, there wasn’t a lot of thought put into where to plant my scrawny, root-bound lilac bush. I remember thinking, “Weren’t lilacs once planted by outhouses to mask the smell?” I opted to just stick ours by the chicken coop and see what would happen. And, into the ground it went.

Over the next few years, this lilac bush lived but it didn’t grow much. In fact, it didn’t do much of anything. It maybe had three or four clusters of blooms per season, but that was it. It didn’t seem to get any taller or bushier. It was just there. Yet, all along our road were examples of tall, thick lilac bushes with showy displays of flowers. It had me wondering why ours was so . . . underwhelming. However, in the grand scheme of raising kids and livestock, troubleshooting my melancholy plant wasn’t high on the list of things to worry about.

Fast forward to last spring when we decided to move the chicken coop because our ladies needed to be moved to higher ground. All the years of scratching and rooting around in their run carved out a low spot that began to fill with water whenever it rained. So we picked a different spot in the yard, maybe ten feet away, and rotated it 90 degrees. It seemed like a small change that didn’t take much effort, but it made a big difference to our chickens.

Surprisingly, it also made a big difference to my lilac bush. . .

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Celebrating Our Daily Bread

Wed, 31 Jul 2024 07:19:48 GMT

I looked on with glee as the team of three men struggled to install my new oven.

We were nearing the end of our home-building journey, as well as the end of a long season of camper living.

For the past 7 months, my husband and I, along with our 1-year-old and our 80 lb. golden retriever, had been squashed into an RV. This had been entirely by choice, as we had sold our first home and renovated this camper to live in (all while continuing to work on building our log cabin). We had spent day after day working as hard as we could to get our house done, while also trying to maintain some sense of normalcy.

It had not been easy, and I was looking forward to having an actual kitchen to work in again. The camper oven was quite tiny, had to be lit with a lighter and a match, and was admittedly quite a learning curve for me. For the last seven months, I had relied heavily on crockpot meals, and to be honest, I was over it.

So, yeah. Absolute glee.

By the end of that day, I had an oven! A brand-spankin’ new, shiny, ready-to-cook any meal I please, oven. Oh, boy.

We were still very much living camper life, but I told my husband it was high time we officially had our first meal in the new house. Although it seemed inconvenient at the time, I decided to drag my heavy Dutch oven out, give it a good scrub, and pull whatever I could find from the camper pantry to make a good ol’ fashioned pot of chili.

We grabbed some paper bowls that we had lying around, dusted off the dining room table, and sat and enjoyed our first official meal in our new (albeit still quite unfinished) home.

We have since shared many meals together in our home, but I continue to think about that first meal, that March night when we as a family of three shared a meal together.

Although there is nothing inherently special about a dusty dining room table and a pot of chili, we celebrated it like we were experiencing some kind of lavish 5-course meal. We took pictures and sent them to family, and even called my in-laws to tell them that we were officially eating our first meal in our new home.

It felt good because to us, sharing our first meal together in this new home meant that we were nearing the end of a weary season, like we could finally see the light at the end of the very long tunnel.

Over and over again I have found myself marveling at the fact that we survived that incredibly tough season. Not only survived it but maintained a sense of peace and direction while doing so! But that’s just it, right? As I have been reminded repeatedly over the past few years, one day at a time, God will give us the capacity for what we need.

Rachael writes about herself, “I’m a married mom of two living in the foothills of the Tennessee mountains. My husband and I have spent the past few years planting our roots and pursuing simple living, beginning with purchasing some land and starting to build our handcrafted log home.

My goal for simple living has been something I have always valued and craved, and as I’ve gotten older and started a family of my own, I have found my own ways to keep life simple, while still finding meaning. It seems the more I simplify, the more joy and beauty abound.

If you are someone who also finds yourself pursuing a slower, more intentional way of living, I’d love for you to stick around with me on this journey! I hope you find yourself learning new things and feeling inspired along the way.

If you’d like to follow along, you can always keep up with the latest yummy recipes, gardening projects, and simple living inspo over on the blog, Our Handcrafted Home. Be sure to also follow along with me on Pinterest , and on Instagram .”

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These cards include hand-selected questions designed to spark meaningful conversations and deepen connection around the table.

Have a story of your own to share? Learn more about the heart behind the series and find the submission link in this post .

“Give us this day our daily bread,” (Matt. 6:11, ESV)

When we walk as followers of Christ, we are renewed day by day. And then, before you know it, you are sitting around the dinner table once again, sharing a good meal, and marveling at the notion that you, in fact, did it!

Fast Food, Memories, and God’s Grace

Wed, 24 Jul 2024 07:31:53 GMT

It was an unconventional meal, no doubt about it. My twenty-year-old daughter and I shared lunch from a local sandwich shop in the front seat of our family car. We were hungry, but more than that, it was a way to pass the time while we waited for the repairs on her phone. Just one of a million tasks on the to-do list before she headed back to her college town.

When our girls were growing up, it was important to us that we ate as many meals as we could at the table as a family. But as any mom knows, sometimes life has a way of bumping our plans off course. I have vivid memories of scrambling to practices or running errands with my girls in the backseat of that car. Sometimes, dinner was on the go, like it or not. And the center console of the car served as our dinner table.

Now, here I was, sitting with my adult child in the same car I used to shuttle her around in. That car had seen us through practices, choir concerts, sleepovers, school carpool lines, family vacations, and learner’s permits. And then most recently, it was bursting at the seams with all the necessities for her dorm room when we moved her to college.

This is where I tell you that learning how to let go of my girls’ childhood and that season of our lives has been more challenging than I anticipated. Being a parent to adult children brings on the most incredible mix of emotions.

We sat and ate in the parking lot, windows rolled down and music playing softly over the speakers. Our conversation began with small talk. Then I mentioned something about childhood, all our memories in that car, and lamenting out loud that I’d love to have just one more of those carefree summers.

Her response opened up a door to the past that left me breathless.

“I just remember summertime being so much fun. You always had activities planned for us. We went to the park and had picnics. There was always a playdate with our best friends. We went to the water park and the zoo and we did a lot of baking. Remember that time we made strawberry lemonade cupcakes?!”

As my eyes brimmed with tears, I was struck by how quickly one of my secret fears as a mom began to dissolve right there in the shopping center parking lot. I can easily recall the times I was frustrated and lost my patience. (I blame the Texas heat and long summer days.) There were times when I was snippy or asked the girls to go play in their rooms just so I could get a load of laundry done. Deep down, I feared those were the details they would remember most.

But now, through the eyes of my grown-up child, I saw her childhood from her perspective. I never dreamed she’d remember with such specificity the type of cupcakes we baked one afternoon. Where I recalled moments of perceived shortcomings, she remembered happy, carefree memories made together.

None of us are perfect. But through our weakness, God is able to display His sovereignty and mercy in our lives. “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” (2 Corinthians 12:9 NIV)

His grace was on full display through a simple conversation over a fast food sandwich in a parking lot. He reminded me that while every season is filled with ups and downs, His love covers it all.

We don’t have to be at a formal dinner table to make the most memorable mealtime memories. God reminds us of his goodness even in the most unexpected, ordinary places.

Nicole Pilgrim is a freelance writer, former teacher, and almost-empty nester. A Texas-raised southern girl, she now enjoys living in Northern Colorado and experiencing four actual seasons. Nicole is married to her high school sweetheart, and together they have two young adult daughters.

She loves to write about faith, parenting adult children, and embracing this unfamiliar but exciting season called midlife. Her desire is to encourage others by pointing them to Jesus, making connections, and using humor as her primary love language.

You can follow her writing on Substack or Instagram .

Sign up to get the weekly Stories from the Supper Table post delivered straight to your inbox — and receive your free set of 32 Printable Conversation Cards.

These cards include hand-selected questions designed to spark meaningful conversations and deepen connection around the table.

Have a story of your own to share? Learn more about the heart behind the series and find the submission link in this post .

Welcome Home

Wed, 17 Jul 2024 07:35:14 GMT

Our new home is situated about halfway down a freshly paved road; trees have been cleared from one side of the newly built neighborhood to the other. All that’s left around us is a deep-hued, jewel-honed sky.

It’s almost as if we live somewhere like Utah or Montana; you’d think the skies with their rich colors and brooding clouds and pink sunsets were actual mountain views. But they’re not. They are simply pockets of condensation that amaze and astound me just about every time I look up.

My family just moved to a new town about an hour and a half away from where we’ve lived for the last five-plus years. We don’t know anyone here, so on the eve of the Fourth of July holiday, we looked around our makeshift dining table (a craft table we’d been using until our furniture arrived) and asked, “What should we do this year to celebrate?”

Firework displays and downtown crowds, even in a small town, felt too big. We were all beyond weary from moving. We needed respite, welcome, and balm for our tired, aching muscles.

We needed something no one around us could give. After all, we’re in a neighborhood of new-build residents, and we’re all afflicted with the same weariness. Too tired to get out most days. Under the gorgeous skies of multiple hues, we are secreting away in the air conditioning because venturing into the 99-degree temps we’ve been having lately feels like a Goliath we can’t conquer.

Even for Georgia, it’s too hot to gather.

But on July 3rd, our family decided that our desire for connection was important enough to try.

Sometimes, “giving it a shot” is all you can muster. So that’s what we did.

We walked across our lawn and asked our neighbors on either side of us if they had plans and if they would want to join us in the backyard for a cookout in less than 12 hours?

To our surprise, they said yes.

Four households—we also invited a couple from three doors down—representing four different stories of origin. We each brought meat to grill, some sides to share, and a simple dessert.

Sometimes, the welcome you want isn’t there because everyone else needs a welcome too.

We learned this year that “welcome around the table” doesn’t need to be fancy or even planned far in advance.

We learned that what little we all had left in our proverbial energy tanks was enough.

Each of us made a small effort to build our own new community—one of connection, new friendship, and hope for the future.

Sitting around the table, we talked about our pets, kids, the towns we moved away from, and our hopes for this place we were learning to settle in and enjoy. Our conversation built a foundation for support in the midst of a crisis. Just a few hours later, one of the families lost one of their dogs who ran away because of the booming fireworks in the sky overhead.

So, our newly minted tribe walked up and down the freshly paved roads of our neighborhood calling out the dog’s name together; we drove the surrounding streets well into the night searching for a scared chocolate-colored dog. (Thankfully, the next day he was found at a nearby business.)

That simple cookout gave us the opportunity to be there for a family who needed friendship and support while their beloved dog was missing. They needed to know that other people cared about them.

It was a night I’ll never forget. I learned that sometimes, the welcome you need is the one you have to give someone else.

Brooke Turbyfill is a freelance editor who helps authors turn their works of fiction and non-fiction into their polished best before they’re submitted to publishers and printers. She writes a Substack newsletter for authors called “On Stories” about how life and writing collide at https://brooketurbyfill.substack.com/ .

If you need editing services, you can reach her through her website at www.brooketurbyfill.com or contact her directly at brooke@turbowordsediting.com .

Brooke lives with a squirrely hound, her husband, and two kids in a small town where she writes regularly for other publications about our longings for connection and community and where we find them, sometimes in the most unlikely places.

Sign up to get the weekly Stories from the Supper Table post delivered straight to your inbox — and receive your free set of 32 Printable Conversation Cards.

These cards include hand-selected questions designed to spark meaningful conversations and deepen connection around the table.

Have a story of your own to share? Learn more about the heart behind the series and find the submission link in this post .

Cooking with a Sizzle of Love

Wed, 10 Jul 2024 07:37:33 GMT

The sounds and smell of food cooking on the stove or in the oven are something comforting to my senses, and I also feel cared for when I know someone is sacrificially cooking for me out of love and kindness. In the supper table mealtimes of our daily life, it is my husband and I sharing a meal together, just the two of us, ever since our son was old enough to move out on his own. Sometimes we include others around our table in the evenings where the stories of our lives are shared; making life richer and ensuring those within eye contact that they are not alone. I share with you today a sentimental piece of my story that comes early in the mornings for me, where the love of my husband greets me with his breakfast offering.

As I put my makeup on in the morning, finish doing my hair, and get dressed, I hear the familiar sounds of my dear husband cooking breakfast for me when he gets out the frying pans and starts to cook. He is in the kitchen almost every morning as I get myself ready for work, where I hear and smell the sausage or bacon sizzling in the pan. I hear him telling me, “Five more minutes, and it will be done!”

I quickly finish getting ready and make my way out to the kitchen counter where I watch him, with kindness, put 1-2 pieces of sausage or bacon, fried eggs or scrambled eggs with cheese (because I love my eggs), and usually buttered toast or fruit on our plates before we sit together. He always has a fresh cup of hot coffee with his breakfast. I usually drink the rest of my coffee I didn’t finish earlier in the morning. We hold hands, and he prays over our breakfast. We listen to a contemporary Christian radio station on the computer while we eat together and talk about our plans for the day before I leave for work. I think about my husband’s kindness and love in serving me, and I am humbled inside. I don’t ever want to take him for granted, and I give him a hug, a kiss, and a “thank you” before I go out the door.

He has faithfully made me breakfast in the mornings for about 5 years now, ever since the year he medically had to retire. For most of our 39 years of marriage, he was out the door very early for his work. As a businessman who owned a vending and coffee service for over 21 years, he left early with his hot cup of coffee, to ensure timely coffee delivery to the customers on his route. Because the health changes happened unexpectedly in his life, he had to retire many years earlier than he would have liked to. He worked through the emotional difficulty of it all with a degree in counseling and a strong faith in God. He began to love me then in a different way that included making me breakfast before work and showing me one of his love languages—acts of service.

In this story, the sacrifice is made in the breakfast offering; the breaking of bread together in the morning that sets the tone for the day. It’s in the “I know he doesn’t have to, but he still does it” place where his love is action to me. I am grateful for the blessing of my husband’s gift and for the way he makes me feel loved and cared for in the offering of the food he cooks, which always is a reflection of his heart. The sound of sizzling sausage or bacon in a frying pan and its distinct and pleasing aroma will always stir up something inside me and remind my heart of my husband’s tender love and care.

“Since God chose you to be the holy people he loves, you must clothe yourselves with tenderhearted mercy, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience.” Colossians 3:12 NLT

Noreen Sevret is a writer who shares about finding hope in simple life moments, sorrows, and pain while seeking beauty in unexpected places. She is passionate about taking pictures of ordinary things—often on the road less traveled. Noreen lives in upstate New York, where she finds joy in growing flowers, watching sunsets, visiting the ocean, walking with her husband, coffee with friends, visiting her mom for a cup of tea, and facilitating journaling and book study classes for women. Noreen and her husband of 39 years walked through an international adoption journey years ago that changed their lives with the adoption of their son, Max. When She is not writing or enjoying family, friends, and nature, she is likely serving at the local funeral home where she works full-time.

Noreen writes and hosts a radio devotional, Reflections by the Water, heard on NoteSpire Radio twice a week. You can also find her on her website , Instagram , and Facebook .

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These cards include hand-selected questions designed to spark meaningful conversations and deepen connection around the table.

Have a story of your own to share? Learn more about the heart behind the series and find the submission link in this post .

The Heart of the Home: How Dinner Conversations Strengthen Family Ties

Wed, 26 Jun 2024 07:44:24 GMT

Dinner’s on!

Dinner is ready and in pots on the stove. Everyone grabs a plate, serves themselves, and heads to the living room. Dad turns on the show we’ve been watching. We say grace and eat while we watch the show and talk. Yes, we talk while we watch the show. When the conversation gets loud or intense we pause the show so we can all focus on the conversation. After dinner, the boys help clean up and get ready for bed or do homework.

While I’d love to say that we regularly eat our dinner at the dining room table, that’s just not the reality for my family. We DO eat as a family nearly every night, however. And that’s generally a homecooked meal, even if “homecooked” means reheated leftovers!

Why bother?

Lots of families eat fast food in the car while racing from one extracurricular to another and that works for them. Yet not EVERY night is spent rushing from one event to another. Too often those nights still get relegated to fast food with everyone in their own spaces.

It doesn’t have to be like that, however. As a family communication specialist, I can tell you that one of the primary connection points in families is mealtime. And it’s hard to connect when crammed in the car.

That’s why my family does our very best to eat at home together, even if it’s 9:30 pm! When we eat together, we can improve our communication skills and forge relationships beyond the pre- and post-school task conversations. Our dinnertime conversations allow us to really catch up on each other’s lives and show interest. I love that I can learn what really happens in my sons’ friendships during dinner time.

I also love that these dinnertime conversations allow my husband and I to model our core values for our kids. Between talking about our own lives and the choices we make and leading our kids to make good choices, we can demonstrate the Christian values we want to embody like honesty, hard work, and loyalty.

The third benefit to having family dinners like this is support. We can offer our kids support in various decisions and relationships when we know what is going on. When we ask key questions we can begin to understand what’s happening in our kids’ lives. Then we can find out how they feel about what’s happening and encourage them to make good decisions or praise them when they already did make good decisions.

The effort is worth it!

Do our dinner-time conversations always look picture-perfect? No! I wish I could say they do, but the reality is sometimes our boys are just silly. Or we are rushed and eat quickly so everyone can do homework or get ready for bed.

The effort we make to have dinner at home and talk through it is so worth the time and effort we put into it. It takes time to have a meal ready and effort to engage with everyone at the end of a very long day, but the blessings far outweigh the investment of time and energy!

What does your dinnertime routine look like? Do you get time to sit together and enjoy each other’s company? What would you change if you could? Let us know!

Dr. Andrea Towers Scott is an author and speaker. In addition to being a Christian Communicator graduate, she has been teaching communication skills for over 20 years. She’s been married 30 years and they have two wonderful sons – a teen and a young adult. Together, they have a working farm with lots of animals. Her passion is helping people take their marriages from ‘blah’ to breathtaking. You can find her on her website .

Sign up to get the weekly Stories from the Supper Table post delivered straight to your inbox — and receive your free set of 32 Printable Conversation Cards.

These cards include hand-selected questions designed to spark meaningful conversations and deepen connection around the table.

Have a story of your own to share? Learn more about the heart behind the series and find the submission link in this post .

Casseroles and Connection

Wed, 19 Jun 2024 07:47:44 GMT

My mom was a simple cook. I don’t have any ingredient-smudged recipe cards of famous homemade dishes she passed down. But I have sweet memories of talk radio shows or baseball games blaring while she made chocolate chip cookies from the recipe off the back of the chocolate chip bag. I’d help mix and measure, as we talked over the radio and nibbled on the semi-sweet chocolate morsels.

A young bride at age 19, my mom told me how she made bacon sandwiches to send with my dad who was finishing his music degree early in their marriage. She’d laugh at how she barely knew anything about life or cooking or common sense as a teenage bride.

Over the next decade, they served the church with faithfulness, as they energetically loved people via the music and youth ministries with two young kids in tow (my older brother and me). Tragedy struck 10 years later when my mom became a young widow after my dad died in a car accident. Our church and our world was rocked.

I don’t remember much of my mom’s cooking in those in-between years. Through her grief, Mom kept life moving along with family celebrations, birthday parties, school, and church activities. Even without my dad, she provided love and stability in our home.

Five years later, Mom married my stepdad (a godly man) and we moved to a dairy farm. Though she was raised on a farm, my mom, brother, and I were accustomed to city life and not your ideal “farm people.” But we were a full family again and the new routines created happy memories.

On the farm, Mom cooked more. She had a husband who spent long days in the barn and fields, and we often delayed our dinner time so we all could eat together around the table on our classic 1980s Corelle dinnerware. My stepdad was a bachelor until age 33, so he appreciated the warm meal and smiling faces when he came in from a long day, covered in nature’s elements.

Though her experimentation in the kitchen was limited, I remember Mom’s chicken, broccoli, and rice casserole and her savory crockpot vegetable soup. Another favorite? Chicken and cheese wrapped in crescent rolls sopped in a cream-of-something soup. And some of my most treasured memories include cutting up canned biscuits and shaking them in a gallon baggie of cinnamon and sugar for mom’s famous monkey bread. As it baked, the smell was warm and welcoming and the syrupy reward was worth the wait.

This is what I remember best about Mom’s kitchen: Her table was simple, but the connections were deep. She wasn’t a gourmet cook, but she gathered people with joy and offered her full attention. She fostered community in our home, whether it was just our family or with invited guests. Her love for Christ fueled her love for others.

Mom showed me that feeding people was about the people, not the menu. A simple meal, shared stories, and laughter around the table are all that’s needed to love well. Mom passed away 13 years ago, but her love for people still lives on — and maybe, just maybe, monkey bread is her food legacy after all.

Sign up to get the weekly Stories from the Supper Table post delivered straight to your inbox — and receive your free set of 32 Printable Conversation Cards.

These cards include hand-selected questions designed to spark meaningful conversations and deepen connection around the table.

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Diagnosed with an incurable genetic condition (Vascular Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome) at the age of 33, Erica Baldwin writes at ohhisgoodness.com to encourage women to cling to God’s goodness as they face life’s most difficult trials. Her fragile body and uncertain future led to her firm hope in God’s character, not in her circumstances.

She’s written a seven-night devotional, Rest in Jesus , for those – like her – who struggle with anxious, sleepless nights. Her writing has been featured in Joyful Life and Be Still magazines, and she serves as a contributor on the Hope in Grief website .

Erica lives in North Carolina with her ever-detailed husband and 12-year-old miracle son. She treasures every “normal” day as a gift, especially days that begin with coffee and end with the family cuddling on the couch. While she hates heights, Erica loves fall weather, salty snacks, cheesy Hallmark movies, and listening to others’ stories of resilience.

Find Erica on Instagram , Facebook , or subscribe to her monthly email newsletter at Oh His Goodness .

Pasta Soup

Wed, 12 Jun 2024 07:53:32 GMT

Over the years, our home has become quite the revolving door. From new faces, to familiar, people grace our doorstep for all kinds of reasons. Between visiting family members for holidays, neighbor kids snagging a snack in the middle of their game of streetball, or collegiate sports players coming to live with us for a few months, our family loves adding a seat to the table.

Some of our favorite memories are from sitting in the kitchen, as we get to know one another through shared stories. It’s become more than a way of life; it’s become a daily gift as we transition from being strangers to great friends with those around us.

I’m not sure why, but I often convince myself to try new recipes when guests come to visit. Why make a tried-and-true recipe, when you can attempt to create a fancy meal you saw on a blog one time? Piece of advice: Don’t do it.

Not too long ago, we had a young hockey player living with us. He had never lived away from his parents before, so I wanted to be the best hostess I could be by helping him feel right at home. Pulling out all the stops, I snagged the lasagna recipe I discovered the week prior. I was confident nothing could be more comforting than a big pan of lasagna.

The house smelled amazing. As our defenseman settled into his room, and my children completed their homework, I was convinced this would be the best rendition of lasagna I had ever made. As soon as the timer went off, I was prepared to pull out a bubbling cheesy pan of pasta, but all I saw was what my children affectionally called pasta soup.

No problem! It just needs to bake longer, right? So I popped the pan back in the oven to give it a little more time. Unfortunately, there was not enough time in the world to perfect this layered dish. Letting it sit on the counter as it cooled, I prayed the sauce would thicken so I wouldn’t have yet another first-time-guest meal failure. Sadly, this was one prayer that wasn’t going to be answered in the way I hoped it would.

My children never let the topic of that fateful evening go, but over the next few months, I made quite a few good meals for their honorary big brother. Introducing him to good ol’ North Dakota food made for some laughs as we “cultured” him in the ways of tater tot hotdish, rhubarb, and Swedish meatballs.

The best day came when I received a text from his mother. She thanked us for opening our home to her son; being able to jump right in as a member of the family made her so grateful. However, what stuck out the most were these six words: “Can I have your lasagna recipe?” My jaw dropped. Why in the world would this woman want such a dreadful recipe? Come to find, it was his favorite thing I made while he lived with us.

God used a simple text that day to remind me how even when I felt like I had failed, he was still able to use it for good. The laughter over a pan of meat and cheese soup was just what we needed to break the ice. It took one meal for us to feel like we were already gelling together as a temporary family. What occurred at the table was transported to the ice rink as we cheered on every home game, continued to check in with him after he left, and still stay in touch to this day.

It may have been something as simple as a failed supper, but what it gave us was the gift of family.

Sign up to get the weekly Stories from the Supper Table post delivered straight to your inbox — and receive your free set of 32 Printable Conversation Cards.

These cards include hand-selected questions designed to spark meaningful conversations and deepen connection around the table.

Have a story of your own to share? Learn more about the heart behind the series and find the submission link in this post .

Sara is a pastor, a mom of three, and an avid learner. She resides in North Dakota where you will almost always find her with a coffee cup and book in hand. She has a secret love for art, a talent for embarrassing her kids, and a deep love for worldwide missions work.

She is currently writing her first book, Leading Spiritual Hoarders, as she comes alongside pastors to help them create a culture in their churches of disciples who make disciples.

Sara also writes a monthly e-newsletter, Pioneering the Crossroads, which encourages the reader to live a bold and courageous life for the sake of the Gospel. You can find her on her website , Facebook , and Instagram.

Table of Grace

Wed, 05 Jun 2024 07:56:26 GMT

Serve one another in love. Galatians 5:13 NIV

Sign up to get the weekly Stories from the Supper Table post delivered straight to your inbox — and receive your free set of 32 Printable Conversation Cards.

These cards include hand-selected questions designed to spark meaningful conversations and deepen connection around the table.

Have a story of your own to share? Learn more about the heart behind the series and find the submission link in this post .

As a wife and Marmee to three adult children, two of whom are married and a new grandson, Kerry Sue’s life is very full. She met her husband in college and served on the mission field with him for a few years before settling down back in the United States of America to raise their family.

Kerry Sue’s family was a homeschooling family for 20 years and they enjoyed it immensely. For the last 24 years, they have lived on a small farm in Northern California where they have raised many farm animals, along with growing and preserving their food. Kerry Sue’s family farm has been a great source of enjoyment and a place to host many family gatherings. She maintains an open-door policy for dear friends—old and new.

Following and serving Jesus Christ is an integral part of Kerry Sue’s life as well as her family’s.

Whether it’s singing in the church choir, teaching children or leading and lecturing at a women’s Bible study, Kerry Sue loves to demonstrate her love for Jesus by giving to Him in service. She’s been a blogger for more than eight years, a Bible study writer for four years, and a devotional writer for more than two.

Kerry Sue feels led to write about finding God’s Sovereignty in our suffering because of her own ongoing journey of more than four years, with the hope of encouraging others.

You can connect with Kerry Sue on her blog , Facebook , and two Instagram profiles here and here .

There they were. Nestled on small hand-patted corn tortillas along with crema and a few strands of raw cabbage. At first, I was unsure of their true origin, until I asked our culturally minded friend and fellow missionary. Once informed, I quickly informed him, I could not eat them. Ever.

It was at this moment I had a choice. To die to self, my wants and desires, or to recognize the sacrifice of others so I could be served at their table. And to eat the chicken liver tacos.

We were new missionaries serving in Guatemala, and this was our first trip to a remote village in the southern region. Many Mayan tribes live in Guate and we were meeting a pastor and his family – who were much loved in their village, with the mission, and served the Lord wholeheartedly.

As the seconds ticked by, our friend filled in the details – the pastor and his wife had scrimped and saved, even refusing to eat the tacos themselves so we could have enough. Their meager rations of corn tortillas, black beans, and rice were pushed aside so we could enjoy the lavish meal of chicken livers. The family was seated behind us, watching with gracious smiles of humility; my look of horror had to be erased, and quickly.

The family would not join us at the table, per custom; they sacrificially gave to the missionaries while watching in love coupled with grace.

Suffice it to say, it was the one and only time I have eaten chicken liver tacos. Being a city kid, this was a stretch, but a valuable lesson at the beginning of our service for the Lord.

Fast forward a few years later with our own children and many years serving abroad or more locally in Mexicali or in the ghettos of Santa Ana, CA, we (my husband and I) began to understand the importance of our table. This journey began with a study written by Nancy Campbell about our tables – our tables are an important part of ministry in our home, whether to our own family or to those who partake in a meal with us.

When one puts his/her feet under our table, the opportunity to serve in love, pour out grace, and be a fragrant example of Christ is given. How we choose to use this opportunity is up to us.

Pastor Nicholas and his family blessed us with a gift not measured in monetary terms but in love. It was 1 Corinthians 13 lived out, the true definition of love. It was an example to these new missionaries of what it would mean for us to serve people of a different culture, different language, and different foods. We could either embrace them or remain isolated Americans unwilling to bend.

I am so thankful we bent and have kept on bending. The people who have put their feet under our table have been vast, varied, and valuable in training us to sacrificially serve. We look to make others comfortable, and well-fed, and present a conversation peppered with grace, the gospel, and good food.

God used that moment in time in a little village in Guatemala to teach us His love and grace. When I sit at His table, He serves me. He is concerned for my needs, my heart, and our conversation. He serves me, in front of my enemies – they can only look on as the Saviour of the world loves on me, a sinner saved by grace. Jesus prepares my favorite foods, has my favorite color of linens and everything is just so. He is the Good Shepherd, for me. For us. (See Psalm 23.)

A lesson learned years ago has been kept in the back of my heart every time someone sits up to my table. How can I serve in grace, love in kindness, and share Jesus as we eat and fellowship? Do I go without so my guests can feast? Am I willing? Are you?

Traveling Back in Time: How to Inspire a 90’s Summer in 2024

Sat, 01 Jun 2024 08:24:17 GMT

Summers during childhood are magical. I know I look fondly back on mine even though it wasn’t anything fancy. I’m convinced that my kids will look back on their childhood summers joyfully with little intervention from me. Spending hours outside playing in the sunshine, exercising their wild imaginations, running around, and making sweet memories.

Yes, giving my kids a happy childhood is one of my top priorities, but I’m making an effort to put having a happy motherhood high on the list too. My kids are my biggest joy and it’s a privilege to be their mom. With the weight of the responsibility though, it’s so easy to get bogged down in stress that I can forget to have fun. I’ve written about this a time or two. If you can relate and would like to read more, you can go here and here.

I want so badly to enjoy the carefree magic of summer with my kids that I incorporated some strategies to help. There’s a relaxation technique called grounding, where you engage each of your five senses to support feeling calm and present. I’ve found that intentionally integrating an element from each of the five senses that reminds me of my childhood into our play area inspires the lighthearted freedom I felt as a kid. It helps me let go of the worry and anxiousness to be able to be present and truly enjoy playing with my children.

Here are some things that worked for me. Feel free to give them a try or use them as inspiration to figure out what works for you.

Sound

This was perhaps the easiest sense to figure out. Country music has been playing in the background my entire life, so I created a nostalgic 90s country playlist to really take us back. If 90s country inspires you too, I’m sharing my curated playlist here.

We pack this portable all-weather speaker outside so our soundtrack is playing in the background of all the bike riding and activities. I purchased ours at Costco, but this is the same one and I have been really happy with it.

Touch

Walking around barefooted outside reminds me of my childhood too. The fresh feeling of walking through the cool grass and the relaxing feeling of my feet on warm (but not hot!) cement. We have a cement patio on the east side of our house. It’s shady in the afternoon and I love to sit on the steps with my feet planted on the warm cement.

Sight

From my seat on the patio steps, I can see my kids riding around on their bikes, scooters, wagons, and anything with wheels. Right in the middle of the flurry of activity, I can see it all. My brothers and I used to ride around, back and forth, making laps around the patio.

Smell

Growing up, my grandparents planted petunias everywhere they could. Pots, planters, hanging baskets, they were overflowing everywhere. Petunias aren’t like roses or lilacs, which are known for their fragrances. But petunias do have a distinctive smell, especially if they are everywhere and the breeze is blowing and it always takes me right back to summers at my grandparents’ house. Last summer I filled the planters on my patio with petunias, enough to smell on the breeze.

Taste

Popsicles were the go-to treat of the summer when I was a kid. My kids love popsicles but they are still fairly little and have a hard time eating them before they melt enough to break. Otter Pops have been our solution. Having the treat contained in a tube cuts down on the amount of dropped popsicles and tears.

There’s also an organic version and supplies to make your own at home. There are disposable sleeves to add and freeze your own juice and the reusable version.

These are a few of the things that have helped me transform from a tired mom to a carefree mom and spend some lighthearted time enjoying the summer with my kids. My hope is that this helps you brainstorm some ways to you can reconnect with your inner child too and create more summer memories that you can look back with fondness in 30 years. It’s not too late for us; we can still have fun. I promise!

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These cards include hand-selected questions designed to spark meaningful conversations and deepen connection around the table.

If you enjoyed this post, you might enjoy these other posts written for the theme “Time.”

For Such a Time as This by Sharla Hallett

Time to Pivot to Your Summer Rhythm – Tips for Creating an Intentional & Relaxed Summer by Lisa Crowder

The Most Valuable Time by Ashley Olivine

Simple Is Better – When Time Doesn’t Stand Still by Dianne Vielhuber

Start Up the Taco Tournament!

Wed, 29 May 2024 07:59:32 GMT

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Amanda Wettersten is a wife, mom, and people-person. After a move to a new city, Amanda felt like she was drowning in loneliness, so she set the intention to share a meal with 100 people in a calendar year. That changed everything. Now Amanda does a “100 People Project” each year making meaningful connections with old friends and new, people inside her home and out. Find her ideas and inspiration @onehundredpeopleproject on Facebook , Instagram , and her website .

“Should we just invite the Haws over? Start up the Taco Tournament?”

The sky had opened up and, with it, our evening; soggy fields were postponing our sons’ baseball game again. Everything in me ached to say no. The last time my floors had been mopped skinny jeans were still in style. The bathroom hadn’t been wiped down in ages, there was definitely dirty underwear on the floor upstairs. My grocery order was scheduled to be picked up tomorrow.

“Sure, but I’m not ready. I need help pulling it together,” I said instead. Matt fired off a text inviting our esteemed judges to a taco showdown in an hour, made a last-second turn into Meijer, and we tore through the place like the McCallisters at O’Hare, grabbing a bag of grapes, two boxes of ice cream treats, and a tri-fold poster board.

Two years ago, after enjoying the NCAA March Madness basketball tournament, our family launched the Wettersten Family Pizza tournament. We polled our friends to find out the 16 best pizza places in town, seeded the bracket, and systematically eliminated sub-par parlors via our single-elimination tournament. 18 months later, we’d hosted 16 families for dinner and crowned Flingers the greatest pizza place in all of Bloomington-Normal. Now we’re doing it again, but this time with tacos.

Can I tell you a secret? It’s all a ploy.

In 2021, Cigna’s U.S. Loneliness Index found that 58% of Americans identify as lonely. Last May, Dr. Vivek H. Murthy, the US Surgeon General, declared Loneliness an epidemic and released an 82-page advisory on the ‘Healing Effects of Social Connection and Community.’ As Christians, we believe that the second-greatest command is to “Love your neighbor as yourself” (Mark 12:31). But gosh, it’s hard to love our neighbors when we hardly know them. It’s hard to love ourselves when our hearts ache with loneliness.

Need a little push to widen your circle? Open your door? Set a few extra places at the table? Maybe lean into silly. Strangely enough, it feels more approachable to invite people under the ploy of a taco match-up. Maybe it’s my own insecurity of not being interesting enough, or a good enough cook, or something enough. But they’ve said yes every time. And I’ve got a bracket to fill up, so I’m looking far and wide for yeses.

Can I tell you one more secret? It’s better when it’s imperfect. 16 gatherings have taught me even when I want to say no, to say yes. Say yes when you still need to paint the trim. Say yes when there are garage sale items piled up in the entryway. We need connection way more than we need cleanliness. There’s something kind about being brought into someone’s real life; being the friends they allow to see the shoe pile and laundry baskets.

Our guests burst through the door as my youngest and I were finishing drawing the new tournament bracket onto the trifold and mere minutes after Matt had arrived with the tacos. The floors had been vacuumed but remained unmopped. Fortunately, the undies had all been scooped into hampers. Nary a guest judge noticed. Instead, lemonade was poured, heads bowed and tacos blessed, and, not at all unlike the believers in Acts 2, we broke tortillas in our home and ate together with glad and sincere hearts.

We did more than declare Veracruz’s tacos superior to Taco Bell’s that night. (Just barely, word to the wise: make sure your kid-to-adult ratio is close when matching up authentic to fast food!) Like Jessica says, “Special things happen when people gather together around a meal.” We laughed and listened, filled hearts as full as bellies. I’m not sure if it’s magic or a miracle, but there’s just something about inviting others to your table. It wins every time.

The Simplest Way to Preserve Farm Fresh Eggs

Sat, 25 May 2024 09:04:45 GMT

It’s the time of year again when our chickens are in full egg-production mode and baskets overflowing with eggs are taking over our kitchen counter. Selling them here and there is fun and giving them away to friends and family is a sweet gesture. Just don’t forget to preserve some for yourself to pull out in the winter when egg laying naturally slows down.

There are several ways to preserve eggs but I’m going to walk you through my go-to method. I’ve found freezing them works very well for us because it’s such a simple, easy process. You don’t need any special equipment or supplies and the learning curve is minimal since you likely already store food in your freezer.

I like to freeze mine individually in a muffin pan lined with reusable silicon muffin cups. Crack one egg into each cup and then place the pan in the freezer for a few hours.

The first time tried to freeze eggs, I cracked them directly into the muffin pan thinking I would be able to twist it and pop them out like ice cubes from an ice cube tray. I was wrong! They were very hard to get out intact. They also started to thaw pretty quickly, especially with the body heat from my fingers with all the extra handling, and the project turned into a slippery, slimy mess!

Once the eggs are frozen, pull the muffin pan out of the freezer and pop each egg out of its cup. Package them up, vacuum seal them, and put them back in the freezer.

The amount I freeze together in one package varies. I think about common recipes I use and freeze according to how many eggs it calls for. For example, one of our favorite breakfasts is baked oatmeal. I freeze three eggs together frequently because we make this recipe* all the time. When I scramble a pan full of eggs for our family of six, I use 12 eggs. So then I also often freeze 12 together.

I keep a box in the freezer specifically for the frozen eggs so they don’t get lost.

Keep in mind fresh anything is almost always better than the preserved version. While this method is my favorite way to preserve eggs, it isn’t perfect. It does change the texture; so they don’t make great fried eggs and I wouldn’t use them for something like a meringue. But they scramble well and they work great for my normal, everyday baking needs.

Variations

Several people mentioned to me that they like to freeze their unbroken eggs, and just put them right into the freezer. They also say that they sometimes crack. To me, it seems like it would be messy and frustrating to try to thaw a cracked egg, and then fish out the shells.

Other people suggested beating the eggs first and then pouring them into the muffin cups. I think this is a great idea. Freezing the eggs does change the texture and makes the yolk more difficult to mix. Stirring first solves that problem. Personally, I don’t have an issue with the texture and extra stirring. I would rather skip the extra step in the preservation process.

*Our go-to breakfast is baked oatmeal and the original recipe came from The Prairie Homestead Cookbook by Jill Winger.

There’s also an organic version and supplies to make your own at home. There are disposable sleeves to add and freeze your own juice and the reusable version.

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These cards include hand-selected questions designed to spark meaningful conversations and deepen connection around the table.

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Who is Around Your Table Today?

Wed, 08 May 2024 08:02:13 GMT

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DeAnna Sanders desires to inspire mission-driven Christ-followers to sharpen their focus on undervalued, unseen people, locally and globally, lead them to meet those people at the point of their pain, and offer them a hope-filled future.

She writes a free weekly Substack newsletter, A Good Word Wednesday . She fills it with bite-sized slices of life from her own experiences and from people she has met around the world. Her book, Unseen People: Sharing Light and Life with Your Neighbors and the Nations , will be released by Ambassador International on August 6th, 2024. You can also find her on her website , Facebook , and Twitter .

DeAnna has served a local church as a missions minister and has worked with a global anti-trafficking nonprofit, She Is Safe, as Indonesian Country Director and as Director of Communications. She has communication degrees from Ouachita Baptist University and Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary.

She lives in southwestern Oklahoma with her husband, Johnny, and their two Fox Red Labradors. They love spending time with family, including their five grandchildren, who live nearby. She enjoys long walks and relaxing on her deck, sipping flavorful coffee and savoring one of the several books she enjoys reading at the same time.

It’s Springtime as I am writing this, but today I’m thinking of Fall and Thanksgiving. It’s my favorite holiday. It’s a day for family to be together and to enjoy all the festive food. For my American Southern family, that has meant preparing and eating mounds of roasted turkey, cornbread dressing, green bean casserole, broccoli rice casserole, green stuff (lime gelatin, fruit, and whipped cream), cranberry sauce, and of course, pies. One of my favorites served each Thanksgiving that my grandma made and now my mother-in-law makes so deliciously is yummy, gooey, delectable pecan pie. My favorite is chocolate pie. Hopefully, that’s on the Christmas dinner lineup (all great food for a diabetic like myself!)

As wonderful as the meal is, it is not the important part. It isn’t about the food. It’s about the people around the table.

The table in my own home is empty at the moment, but on many Saturday evenings, we host family night dinners. Our children and their families join my husband and me and we crowd around the table. On warm evenings, we take our feast outside on the deck and gather around the long table awaiting us there. We enjoy a meal featuring some type of grilled or smoked meat my husband has crafted for us.

As I think about my table and the people around it, I remember my childhood and who my parents would invite to join us for dinner. My dad, a Baptist pastor, was a sweet and gentle soul. When he sensed someone who needed to be with a family, he invited them to ours. I’m sure I don’t remember them all, but I do recall a little girl, about six years old, who wasn’t allowed to go to her home one night. I have no idea why, but most likely due to abuse or neglect. I was about seven at the time. I remember that she was afraid. She was dirty. And hungry. I don’t even remember her name. But she came home with us and sat at our table and for one night, she was family.

I remember Gino. He was a high school exchange student who came to us from Lima, Peru. When he arrived, he graciously brought a gift — a bottle of wine. For most people, that would be a great gift. For a Baptist pastor in southwestern Tennessee, that gift was poured down the sink. We kept the bottle tucked away in the cabinet as a reminder of our year with Gino. I wonder what happened to that guy when he went back to South America. All I know is he taught us a few words of Spanish. Even though he was Roman Catholic, he went with us to our little Evangelical church every Sunday, and for a year, he sat around our table and Gino was family.

One year, my cousin Yvonne, was dealing with difficult teenage issues and needed another family to live with for a while. My daddy invited her to join us. I don’t know if those problems got better, but for a few months, she laughed with us and shared our home and our table. For that year, Yvonne was family.

I’ve learned that God weaves people in and out of our lives and we always are enriched by their presence. Sometimes we learn big things and sometimes we need only to share turkey, or a hamburger, or pie and coffee, and just be family together.

Who is around your table today? Who have you invited to join you to share life and a meal with you and your family? Who has invited you to join them at their table?

Lifting up the Tablecloth

Wed, 01 May 2024 08:10:33 GMT

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Amy Boyd is passionate about supporting women surviving the unexpected life-changing divorce. By day she teaches reading and by night she entertains her high-energy terrier. Living in Michigan, the Great Lakes are a balm to her soul. Amy enjoys a rosemary latte and a good book. Follow her writing at her blog , substack , or on Instagram .

“Scars are memory. Like sutures. They stitch the past to me.” China Mieville

It’s been more than 22 years since my ex-mother-in-law sewed together the cushions for her four dining room table chairs. She used a plastic tablecloth with little teapots all over it. Burgundy and green, golden rod yellow on a backdrop of navy blue with black and white stripes. Looking at them in 2024, you would think what a nice 90s pattern before sitting down at the table and noting that the padding in those chairs has seen better days.

In 2002 she gifted the wrought iron chairs and light wood-top table to us when we got married. It fit just perfectly in our tiny studio apartment. In those days the table top was in pristine condition. A pretty, light wood grain like pine. Over the next five years she would go through five moves, many at the hands of kind church volunteers, who threw her in the back of a truck and piled the chairs on top, scratching her surface many times over.

Lifting the tablecloth today I can trace my finger in the grooves of those scratches. I can see the scars left behind from all of the journeys she took to get here today. Some scars are deeper and more significant than others.

I remember the days just before our divorce when we divided our earthly possessions and she was up for grabs. Now situated in the first home we had purchased together, I couldn’t imagine my space without her. Pushing back on my soon-to-be ex-mother-in-law, I held strong and managed to hold on to the table we had spent so many meals around over the years.

Today she’s still with me in my new home, a state away from where she originated, and still covered in a tablecloth to prevent her scars and scrapes from being seen. She fits perfectly into my dining room nook, a sign to me that she was meant to be here. She reminds me of where we’ve been, God and I.

The grief of divorce ebbs and flows as time moves on, oblivious to the scabs that fester and eventually turn into scars. Long, jagged lines mark the heart places where two kids became one flesh and then were torn apart. These are wounds only God truly sees and heals. When God lifts up the tablecloth I use to cover my scars, he sees the hurt, shame, and struggle beneath.

The book of Psalms gives us a glimpse of the pain David held as he imperfectly pursued a perfect God and laid bare his emotions. These echoes of our hurt and despair reverberate in our hearts as the Great Physician begins the work of tending to our wounds.

In Psalm 147 the people have just returned home after years as captives to the Babylonians. Nothing in their world is the same, and yet God remains unchanged. They are wounded- he is present- and so they praise him.

The Lord rebuilds Jerusalem; he gathers Israel’s exiled people. He heals the brokenhearted and bandages their wounds. Psalm 147:2-3

The process of healing and bandaging is not one of instant completeness, but an ongoing repetition of God’s ability to put back the shattered pieces into a cohesive, redeemed version of who we are.

Unlike my scarred dining table, my wounds are tended to by the one who continuously heals. Each day I turn my face to the light and absorb the rays of hope that reign down upon me. Every year I peel back the tablecloth over my heart and see the scar- still present- but soothed by the Savior’s balm and I know I am becoming transformed by his healing hand.

He too bears scars- and they are good.

As Fanny Crosby said in her famous hymn,

I shall know him, I shall know him

When redeemed by his side I shall stand.

I shall know him, I shall know him

By the print of the nails in his hand.

Pho for the Soul

Wed, 17 Apr 2024 08:09:21 GMT

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Regina Marcazzo-Skarka is a writer, journalist, and lover of travel and foreign languages. But, most importantly, she loves Jesus and her family. She is married and has two married children and two precious grandchildren. You can visit her on Instagram and her website .

I remember the first time we peeked into the Vietnamese restaurant a couple blocks from the main campus of Memorial Sloan Kettering Hospital. I was with my son Zack and we were looking for an inviting place for lunch. The narrow yet bright eatery looked clean and welcoming. There was a large “A” sign outside assuring us that the restaurant had aced its inspections, and the menu outside the door offered just what the doctor ordered for both of us.

The place was dotted with people dining and conversing, and the good news was that many of the patrons either looked Asian or wore hospital garb. What a great sign that the food was good!

Zack and I glanced approvingly at each other and decided to give it a try. It was a win. The restaurant became our go-to place to eat every time we went to Sloan. It was like therapy after hours and sometimes days of stressful anticipation, at least for me. Zack never seemed phased by his post-cancer check-ups, but I always worried and often wondered how anyone could survive having a child with cancer without having a relationship with God.

Our meal was usually a late lunch because eating before a CAT scan was not permitted. Sometimes, it happened between the scan and the visit with the doctor, meaning that we often did not know the results of the scans or the bloodwork. After, it became a meal of joyful celebration, and before, I was in my “peace that transcends all understanding” frame of mind.

No matter the situation, we always enjoyed great conversations between bites of spicy deliciousness, whether talking about his college adventures, my job, the Bible, other good books, or happenings around the world.

I always started with a cup of miso soup, followed by some form of chicken curry over rice made with the highest level of heat. Zack began with a Vietnamese wonton soup, followed by either a shrimp or chicken dish with noodles. Sometimes, he would order a soup chock-full of noodles and shrimp or chicken. We have since learned that the dish is called Pho. We both love it now and are eager to try some of the Pho restaurants that have popped up around our neighborhoods.

The first couple of times we were at our special restaurant, we eyed the food every time a waiter came out to serve someone else, attempting to get an idea of something we could try. We also discreetly looked at what other customers ate. But that soon became unnecessary.

Eating at the restaurant became our ritual every time we took the many stressful check-up trips into the city. One time, Luisa, Zack’s younger sister, came with us but wanted nothing to do with eating there. She convinced us to let her eat alone at the Irish Pub a few doors down. I reluctantly agreed, not feeling bad enough to give up the Vietnamese fare.

A half dozen years after Zack’s diagnosis, I was treated for cancer. Zack was living in Dallas at the time and flew to New York to surprise and support me. I was too weak upon release from surgery to head over to our restaurant, but a couple of weeks later, when I learned I needed a second, less intense surgery, I convinced my husband to walk me the few blocks after my outpatient procedure so we could eat at the Vietnamese restaurant. I was pretty weak, and it was a very slow stroll. I must have looked like I escaped from the hospital, but I was determined. My spicy curry was delicious. Kevin, my husband, would have preferred the Irish Pub, like our daughter, but he endured.

We’ve since moved away, and our few and far-between check-ups happen in another state. I’m not sure if our special place still exists. The funny thing is that we don’t even remember its name or if we ever knew it.

But memories of our special meals will be forever etched on my heart, reminding me of God’s goodness and faithfulness. During those good, bad, and stressful times, God was always sitting at the table with us, and I am eternally grateful.

Table for Two

Wed, 10 Apr 2024 08:12:50 GMT

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These cards include hand-selected questions designed to spark meaningful conversations and deepen connection around the table.

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Kim Mosiman is a wife and mother to two grown sons and a new grandma! She’s been blessed to live a life full of love and experiences, which has allowed her to escape retirement and embark on a new adventure as an author.

Her first book, Reflections of Joy: Learning to Love the Woman You See While Becoming the One You’re Meant to Be , will be released in May.

She believes the dear Lord put her on this earth to bring people together, often at the dinner table, and she hopes to help more women find a place of self-acceptance, belonging, and love. You can read more at Kim Mosiman Wellness or find her on Instagram or Facebook .

“Do you want to go to breakfast?”

I looked up from my journal, pen pausing on the page. My first thought was that I didn’t have time. I hesitated long enough for him to offer to cook instead.

“Yes,” I said. “Let’s go to breakfast.”

We changed out of our home clothes (sweatshirts and flannel robes) into lazy, rainy-day jeans and a baseball cap and headed out the door. I love it when we act on impulse—jumping into the world together without taking the time to change into our “real selves.” Sometimes, it seems the time between the idea and the execution makes all the difference.

We’re in our winter place, renting an apartment overlooking the Atlantic, on a beautiful island in Florida. It’s quiet. It’s close to our oldest son and his wife. It’s the perfect place for writing, resting, and learning to play pickleball, but the restaurants are few and far between. If the crow flies five miles, it takes thirty minutes to reach by car.

We talk… because it’s too early for anyone to call, interrupting the fresh news going through his mind and the new words forming in mine.

We talk all the way to the restaurant, just talk. Somehow, we avoid conversations about schedules or release dates. We talk with no agenda.

It almost felt like an interruption as the hostess asked, “Just two?”

“Yes. A table for two.”

She leads us to a table in the corner. It seems awkward at first. We always sit at the bar top. After thirty years of marriage, I know my very social husband likes to sit where there is a game on TV or a friend across the way. I always thought it was because he liked other people more than me.

It dawned on me recently that maybe he was just afraid of silence. There has always been plenty to talk about… work, the boys, our parents, or money. But what was there to discuss after that?

We’ve grown old together, but now that the boys have moved away and our careers are over, it becomes increasingly evident that we have grown in different directions—not apart, but certainly towards different end goals.

He wants comfortable things… to build a bigger house so the family can all be together. To buy a car. To work on our investments.

I want to explore. To write. To simplify.

He’s feeling lonely. A social man, newly retired, isn’t always as freeing as it seems.

I’m feeling closed in. I’ve been working from home for years and crave quiet time.

We talked for hours. Stopping long enough to order pancakes and accept refills on our coffee.

Drawing on napkins, scribbling, and fixing.

Forgetting that his plans for the day involved watching a game, and mine included launching a book.

I’ve been praying for this day. As I walk through the sand each morning, I ask God to help us create a marriage that will outlast everything. To rekindle the dreams that turned into duties and the spontaneity that was lost in a sea of responsibilities. I ask Him to help me be the wife Jeff dreamed of while teaching him to gracefully enter the space that has been “just mine” for so long.

There may have been two cups of coffee, two placemats, and one pancake to share, but He was there. Bringing us together as we learn to create a space for all the things together…connecting at a table for two.

The Power of the Table: Fostering Authentic Connection

Wed, 03 Apr 2024 08:20:13 GMT

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Daisy’s a writer and a bellwether table-gatherer who loves fresh-cut flowers and reading. Always reading! She writes by grace- prose, poems, and other pieces that break open a bit more the ethereal and delicate gauze that stands between heaven and earth. Daisy is a graduate of the University of Texas where she obtained a degree in Biology, Nursing, and Spanish Studies. A few evenings a week, she turns in her mom-cape for a white coat as a Nurse supervisor at a hospital in Dayton. As a self-proclaimed world traveler, she is always making lists of her next travel destination. The kitchen is her oasis for creativity and hospitality. When she’s not raising her three littles, she is dating the love of her life, cooking, and setting up Noonday Collection Fair Trade Marketplaces through which Artisans around the world are empowered.

Come join her for tea; she would love to meet you. When you sign up you will receive a beautiful guide for creating a simple charcuterie board for your next get-together. Sign up for her newsletter here . You can also connect with Daisy on her website , Instagram , Facebook , and Twitter .

A season of sabbath led to the unexpected gift of finding myself as a member of a beautiful confessional community. A confessional community is a space where each member of the community has pledged to be in deep relationship with each other and pledge to be known and know each other with the purpose of becoming conformed to the image of Christ together. This is a definition I have pieced together from my experience and from Dr. Curt Thompson’s work. We call ourselves the roomies and we have pledged to stay in the room even when the room gets a bit uncomfortable.

Why do I write about confessional communities, in a post about stories around the dinner table? Well, you see it was around a dinner table that I first began to experience how nurturing and honest conversations can be when we break bread together.

Eight years before this sabbath season I began bravely setting the table monthly as a way to build community and find closeness with the women in my church. What began as a brave act of connection became a vibrant community of women who came to the table to break bread and open their souls to be truly known. I could have never foreseen the impact this small act of bravery would have, not only on the women who felt loved and seen there but also on my own life. This season felt so much like this quote from the book, From Tablet to Table.

“At the table, where food and stories are passed from one person to another and one generation to another, is where each of us learns who we are, where we come from, what we can be, to whom we belong, and to what we were called.” Leanord Sweet

The leaders of the community were becoming more than co-laborers and I began to see them as my dearest friends. It was hard at times to put down the agenda and the to-do list and make time for investing in our friendships. So, when the prompting to take a year off began to ring in my soul, I knew this would be the time we needed to pour into each other’s lives.

We didn’t originally plan to become a confessional community, we planned to make space each month around the table to meet and encourage each other. This would have been beautiful enough but the Lord’s work or molding us can only happen in proximity to other human beings who love God and each other. Dr. Curt Thompson puts it this way:

“Things change when we bring our full selves into a room. We are people who have great longing. We are people who have great grief. We are people who long to be people of joy but we are prevented by that by virtue of our fear and our shame. Life is actually very simple and excruciatingly difficult, but it’s not difficult because it’s complicated. It’s difficult because of how much fear and shame we carry with us. The mission of the confessional community is that we become formed into the image of the king. We are being formed by the community we are embedded in.”

So, as we met regularly and intentionally we began to sense and see that there was more to our stories. There was more need to bring forth to the light the shame and fear that wanted to keep us isolated and alone. We all long to feel lighter even when life is hard and to have a safe place to unburden without shame. The time and space of dining together each month and asking each other to bring our whole selves too made all the difference.

It has been a year and a half since we began our journey of roomies. We have extended grace to each other in tiny ways as well as big ways. We have worked through conflict together, we have cried together, and we have shared our longings and griefs without hesitation. We are completely embedded in this community and I know that this time of meeting at the table, bringing our complete selves, and allowing our souls to be formed by each other will have eternal fruit. All because we had a table in common and we decided to make a safe place to come and be known.

Love Looks Like Breakfast

Wed, 27 Mar 2024 08:18:56 GMT

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These cards include hand-selected questions designed to spark meaningful conversations and deepen connection around the table.

Have a story of your own to share? Learn more about the heart behind the series and find the submission link in this post .

Lynette Allcock Yoon is a writer, teacher, and former radio host. She grew up between three countries as a Third Culture Kid (TCK), and now lives in South Korea with her husband. She writes about faith and relationships from an expat, TCK perspective. She loves helping fellow wanderers & sojourners to feel seen, encouraging them to overcome the challenges and find the beauty in cross-cultural living. You can read more of her writing on her website and Instagram .

“What is one way I can love you better?” I asked my husband as we sat across the table from each other.

It was one of those half-awkward, half-hopeful newlywed conversations that we had sometimes as a couple learning how to live together well.

As an international family — a Korean husband and a British wife living in South Korea — we had some extra learning curves. We kept stumbling across cultural differences we didn’t know we had! And it seemed that food and dining customs were good examples.

My husband looked thoughtful at my question. After a few moments’ pause, he said, “Eat breakfast with me. Breakfast is important family time in Korea, and it makes me feel loved when you eat together with me.”

I sighed a little. I was not a morning person! In my culture, dinner was the most important meal of the day, when the family gathered after a hard day’s work to catch up on the day’s events. In contrast, breakfast was generally eaten on an individual’s own schedule, rather than being a significant gathering time.

However, in Korea, it was not as common to eat dinner together as a family. The work culture meant that staff might often have to stay late in the office, and they might be expected to attend after-hours social events with their bosses and colleagues. Thus dinner time was not typically family time…but breakfast was.

So – a little half-heartedly, I admit – I decided to get up earlier, put some more effort into cooking breakfast instead of dinner, and eat together with my husband.

But the kind of breakfast that he was used to was quite different from what I had grown up eating. Cereal and toast were not normal for him. Instead, a typical breakfast consisted of rice, kimchi, soup, and various “side dishes” of vegetables, eggs, and other foods.

It felt a little overwhelming!

One morning, determined to try this new routine but still on my old body clock, I got up late. I was bleary-eyed and in a hurry. Yet I still wanted to serve up something impressive.

I switched on our gas stove to heat up a frying pan, turned my back for a minute, and when I turned around again, I saw flames licking the wall behind the stove. I had set my countertop oven cable on fire!

My oven was sitting next to my stovetop, and the cable ran behind the stove to an inconveniently-located outlet. Usually, I unplugged and moved the cable before I turned on the stove, but that morning I had simply forgotten. Now it was melting and flaming dramatically.

After a moment’s shock, I quickly put out the fire…but as well as feeling relieved, I was embarrassed. What would my husband think? That oven had been an expensive gift from him, in a country where ovens are not common kitchen equipment. How could I have been so careless?

But my husband didn’t say anything about the oven. “As long as you’re OK, that’s all that matters,” he said with a hug.

That moment reminded me that breakfast together wasn’t about fancy food and fuss. The menu didn’t matter so much. But we mattered. Connection mattered.

It would have been easier for me to keep my old schedule, getting up after my husband and not worrying about breakfast. But a small sacrifice on my part – rising a little earlier, making and eating breakfast together – was a tangible expression of love. It spoke to my husband’s heart, and in the end, it blessed me too.

Gradually, my husband and I have learned to adapt and simplify our breakfast styles and schedules and find something that works for us.

Beyond that, our hearts are nourished at our table, as we spend those few morning minutes together, talking, reading the Bible, and praying over his bowl of rice and my plate of toast.

Sometimes, love looks like breakfast.

Gathering Around a Handmade Table

Wed, 20 Mar 2024 08:22:22 GMT

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Carries writes about herself, “I’ve had a few different careers, but my latest venture is in writing. I am a new author writing my first young adult Christian fiction novel titled, Crisis of Faith, to be released later this year. I write to help the young Christian woman who has lost her childlike faith to help her heal and trust Jesus again. My website is under construction but can be viewed at www.carriewatts.com . I can also be found on Instagram and Facebook .”

Welcome! Come on in ya’ll!

Let me share with you the story of my dining table. Over our nearly thirty years of marriage, my husband and I have had numerous tables, but none quite as grand as this one we purchased from a friend who made it with his own two hands. We live in Mississippi, referred to as the “buckle of the Bible Belt” by some pastors, where cooking and eating is more than sustenance; it’s a social event. While decorative centerpieces make a beautiful presentation, we are more interested in the friends and family in each seat around the table.

During our home renovation in 2016, we enclosed our screened porch to create a larger formal dining room. Along with acquiring a larger table, we occasionally supplement it with smaller tables to accommodate our extensive family and friends.

Between us, we have eleven immediate family members. When we add in the spouses, children, nieces, nephews, aunts, and uncles our holiday dinners typically host between twenty-five to forty guests. We’ve managed to add more seats than those we have lost. Over the past four years, we have lost my brother-in-law to cancer and my dad to a stroke. Yet, we continue to honor their memories, recounting cherished stories of them as we gather around the table.

Speaking of renovations, this late 1970s ranch-style house originally belonged to my in-laws before my husband and I purchased it in 2010. Recognizing the need for a more open space to allow for more guests during family gatherings, we knocked down walls and opened up the kitchen.

Our hope and prayers have always been for all who cross the threshold to feel warm and welcome. Most weeks, my table hosts family and friends, whether for supper or small group bible study. There’s a joy in welcoming loved ones and sharing conversations around the table.

Today, March 20th, marks my husband’s birthday. We will host his birthday dinner this Friday, once again hosting family around the table to celebrate his life. We will share stories of his kindness and wisdom and offer prayers for continued health and blessings.

Easter is just around the corner next Sunday. We’ll also host our annual egg hunt. It’s no longer my boys hunting the eggs. Instead, they’ve grown up to help hide the eggs while the great nieces and nephews will be the eager hunters. We’ve planned the traditional menu, arranged for the family photos, and prepared to celebrate the true reason we are all together: Jesus.

Despite my best efforts to prepare, it seems there’s always something I forget. Last year, the stuffed eggs were discovered in the refrigerator only after everyone left. I couldn’t help but laugh as I messaged our family group chat with a photo and a lighthearted offer, “Anyone up for a stuffed egg?”

This year, I made a note on my phone to remember the eggs, determined not to repeat the same oversight. Yet, in the years to come, what we eat or don’t eat may fade from memory. What I truly pray they remember are the conversations shared and the valuable moral and spiritual lessons they learned while seated around our table.

No Rules for Banana Splits and Sundaes

Wed, 13 Mar 2024 08:25:34 GMT

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Melody Nosko is a registered nurse (RN-BSN) of 20 years, a wife of 20 years, and a mother to her 18-month-old adopted daughter. She has experienced many years of heartache, loss, and grief. Trying to conceive children, the traumatic loss of her infant nephew, and many other trials and tribulations have led her to have a burning desire in her heart to help others who have or are suffering from loss, fear, and grief. Melody is passionate about speaking life into women who have struggled with infertility, giving them hope to one day be the mother they desire to be. She is currently in the process of writing her book and working on speaking engagements that she hopes will help to aid in the healing of those who are hurting or feeling hopeless. You can find Melody on Facebook and Instagram .

When my nephew was six weeks old, my husband and I got the privilege to babysit him overnight. I was so excited to have him overnight, as I loved that sweet boy like he was my own. We didn’t have a crib or bassinet, so I went out and purchased a cheap one for him to sleep in.

I was working as a nurse in labor and delivery at the time and had always taught parents to put their babies on their backs to sleep to decrease the risk of SIDS. My nephew, however, had been put on his belly to sleep since he was born, so my insistence on him sleeping on his back was not working. I finally gave in and put him to sleep on his tummy that night.

The next morning, the unthinkable happened. When I went to get him ready for the day, I found him unresponsive. I immediately started CPR, but unfortunately, later in the hospital, we were told that he had passed away. This of course was one of the most devastating days not only of my life but my entire family’s lives, including his parents.

Over the next few days as we were planning his funeral, we had several family members fly here from California as well as friends come from long distances to be with us. One night before the funeral, my Aunt and I decided to go to the store and buy a bunch of different ice cream flavors, bananas, hot fudge, caramel, nuts, and all the toppings one could think of to make banana splits and sundaes. We wanted to break all the “rules” and decided we were going to have a big banana split party that night for dinner.

We got home and set our table up with all the ingredients and everyone started making their banana splits and sundaes. We all gathered together around ice cream of all things, to help us feel child-like joy and love on each other through our grief. We sat around eating our banana splits and reminiscing about all the things we loved about our sweet nephew. There were tears, lots of love, and some laughter as well. It was a very sweet time.

I will never forget that evening and the time we were able to come together as family and friends. We let our hearts be free from any stress of meal planning for a large group, not worrying about eating dessert for dinner, but instead having fun making sundaes and banana splits like little children.

It brought the joy that we all needed amid so much pain. It opened my eyes to see that sometimes we can get caught up in the “rules” of dinner and making sure we have well-rounded meals, making them healthy, setting the table properly, and so forth. What truly matters is not what is on the table or the menu, but rather who we are with, gathered around the table sharing love and joy during whatever season of life we are in.

Embracing the Sacred: Nurturing Family Bonds Around the Table

Wed, 06 Mar 2024 08:27:56 GMT

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Lea Turner is a registered nurse (RN-BSN) and a compassionate writer and speaker who helps others see God’s goodness in the hard. Having experienced three years of heartbreak, including death, illness, addiction, and loss, Lea has become an expert on grief and is passionate about walking alongside others who are suffering. She’s written for Proverbs 31 Ministries, The Glorious Table, and For Every Mom. She resides in Mississippi with her husband and five children and is known for her attentive listening and insightful wisdom. Her newest book, The Freedom to Feel, will gently lead you to discover how to embrace pain and suffering with kindness, gain the freedom to express your fear and disappointments to God, reignite hope through an awareness of God and His promises, and learn to hold space for each other’s pain and suffering. Find more at leaturner.com .

“[The table is] the raft to ride down the river of our existence even in the hardest times.”

Adam Fopnik, The Table Comes First

When he sits down at the end of our long dining room table across from my husband that first Christmas after he had been clean from drugs for over a year, I’m desperate to freeze time, to take in every moment – to be present.

It’s sacred ground to sit sharing a meal around a table where you’re accepted, not for what you bring to the table but for who you are. I can’t explain it. It’s as if the table symbolizes everything right about love and life for those moments. You can breathe easy and shut out the world while sharing a meal with those you love. It’s a choice. We can find strength by leaning on Jesus. Until you feel the ache of suffering, you’ll never experience unbelievable joy.

I cried myself to sleep many nights covered in shame, thinking my mistakes were the reason my oldest son turned to drugs. Yet even though the ache of having an empty chair while having a child in drug rehab seemed almost too much to handle, I made a meal and gathered my people, believing one day we would all be united. My cheeks wet with tears some nights, staring at the chair where he once sat.

Flames engulfed the twenty years of life my husband and I had built together, and no matter how hard we tried, those ashes wouldn’t go back together. Yet, I admire God’s handiwork, seeing the beauty in trusting God with all of me, including the hard. Although my family began to unravel for a variety of reasons, including my oldest turning to drugs, my daughter’s uncontrollable anxiety, and my mom’s sudden cancer diagnosis, I knew we were precisely where God wanted us to be.

Tonight, after we all gathered around the table with dishes stacked in the sink like memories stacked in our minds, there’s me taking a deep breath and praising God for how far we’ve come. I never expected to get so much wrong. I also never expected the simple act of gathering the seven of us around a table and sharing food to be the glue God used to restore my family.

My oldest and I are the last at the table. I can see the suffering in his eyes, the torment, knowing all the harm he caused. I know because I hold myself in the same prison. Without thinking, I lean in, grab his hands, and say, “I love you, and please hear me. Nothing any of us have done is too far gone for God. We can’t outrun Him. He loves us with a fierce love. I’m thankful you’re here.” We hug, and I try with everything in me to memorize this moment because it is a gift. I try to be present to grace.

Even if you’re getting so much wrong about being a mom, choose to get everything right about regularly spending time around the table. The statistics are alarming. Most families spend one out of five meals eating in the car. One in four eat at least one fast-food meal every single day. Families in the US report eating a single meal together less than five days a week, and even then, most are in front of the TV—no wonder the average parent spends only 38.5 minutes weekly in meaningful conversation with their children (statistics are From Tablet to Table by Leonard Sweet).

We can do better. We must do better.

After eighteen years of being a mom, broken at times, who should have prayed instead of punished and who screamed and yelled instead of extended grace. No matter how shattered and exhausted I may feel, gathering all seven of us around the table isn’t negotiable. The past remains a memory etched within us, while tomorrow remains a mystery yet to unfold. However, today is a gift bestowed upon us by a higher power – a present moment to cherish and embrace.

Our table isn’t just a place to eat; it’s a sacred opportunity to embody the presence of Christ among us. It’s a space where we can allow Him to work deeply within our families. Here, we share the most intimate parts of our days, continually extending forgiveness to one another.

Let’s cherish this precious time together, allowing love and grace to permeate every interaction. As we gather around the table, may we find peace, healing, and the strength to navigate life’s challenges as a united front.

Tacos, Testimonies, and Tears

Wed, 28 Feb 2024 08:31:37 GMT

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Summer Sorensen is a freelance content writer and social media marketer for fitness and wellness brands. She loves listening closely to her clients’ struggles and the problems they solve for their customers so she can create content that grows their businesses.

She blogs at SummerSorensen.com about Christian apologetics, adventure, productivity, and all things pertaining to optimizing one’s life for God’s glory.

She has been married to her husband, Mike, since 2010. When not working, you’ll find her reading, cooking, staying active in the great outdoors, and volunteering at her church. She is always looking for the next opportunity to go hiking, camping, swimming, or cycling.

“Consider it all joy, my brethren, when you encounter various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces endurance. And let endurance have its perfect result, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.”

I don’t normally cry over tacos, but this time was different.

It was a gorgeous summer evening, and my husband Mike and I were hosting our life group leaders for dinner.

As we sat down in the backyard over homemade tacos, our guests began asking about our testimonies – the story of our walk with Jesus.

The copout route is that I grew up in a Christian home, accepted Christ at a young age, and have walked with Him since. Pretty dull stuff, but having a boring testimony is a hidden blessing. But I remembered there was more to the story. The part that still chokes me up when I think about it. I decided to bare all.

A season that changed everything

It was the beginning of my junior year of college. I had transferred to a different university, out of state and far away from family or the friendships I had developed in my first two years of college. I was ecstatic for the opportunity, but reality set in like a pallet of bricks on my chest as soon as I dropped my mom off at the airport.

I was completely alone, for the first time in my life.

As I looked around at groups of friends while walking to class, eating at the cafeteria, and navigating weekends solo, I got depressed.

Sure, I had acquaintances I’d say hi to. I even befriended a group of fellow transfer students. But I felt invisible, like they didn’t notice or care if I was there.

The loneliness was crushing me. Worse, I had a roommate I wasn’t crazy about, so even my personal space was not a solace.

Piling on the challenges, my classes were difficult, and I struggled to keep up. I was worried about how I would make my monthly tuition payments as the job I’d found wasn’t providing me enough hours.

To summarize, I had no friends and I was broke, lonely, and struggling in my classes. It was the darkest spot I’d been in.

Handling a crisis

Amidst this, the Lord had directed me to James chapter 1. Verses 2-4 read:

I took solace from that passage because I knew God was using these trials to accomplish something in my life. I just didn’t know what.

One night, my roommate was gone. Obviously, I had no social plans, so I was facing an evening of sitting in my dorm room all alone.

The weight of my burdens was too great to bear, and I fell on my knees at my bedside, crying out to God for mercy. I wanted Him to solve my problems.

I wanted friends who accepted me, a job that would pay the bills, and not to feel academically inferior. I had hit my breaking point.

Hot tears stung my eyes as I appealed passionately to God.

A surprise

What happened next was not what I was expecting. God gave me a vision. I was in a pitch-black room with a closed door with a gap at the bottom. Coming out from the gap was a blinding light—so bright that it hurt my eyes, and I had to shield them from within the dark room.

On the other side of the door was the throne room of God almighty. Though the door remained closed, it was my taste of the “unapproachable light” in which He dwells (1 Timothy 6:16).

To say I was humbled would be an understatement. I instinctively moved from my knees to face down on the floor, knowing that even that posture was not low enough when witnessing God’s majesty. My tears of desperation turned to those of awe, fear, and worship. The kind that are terrifying and purifying, in His mercy.

I had asked for relief from my problems, and God had instead shown me a glimpse of His perfect holiness. It’s impossible to articulate how deeply that moved me.

What was next

That encounter forever humbled me and changed my perspective. It made me realize how much bigger God is than any problems, no matter how significant. I was shaken to the core with God’s majesty.

Because that was the most profound of experiences, I still tear up when I think about it.

Fast forward over 20 years, and retelling this was responsible for crying over tacos with our friends.

I’m grateful for faithful friends who love our souls enough to ask meaningful questions. It’s a blessing that, in the hustle of life, when we take time to open our homes and share a meal with those we love, the opportunity for real conversation begins.

P.S. God did eventually answer my prayers from that evening. But that is part two of this story!

The Piano Oak Table

Wed, 21 Feb 2024 08:33:30 GMT

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Sherry writes about herself, “I describe myself as rich in faith, family, and friends as I walk day by day with Jesus. A wife and mother of two of my own, two stepchildren, five grandchildren, and five step-grandchildren. My four youngest grandchildren, ages two-seven, are a source of joy in my life. I love spending time with them, and they keep me on my toes! My husband Russ and I are both retired and live on 2 1/3 acres northeast of Battle Ground Lake in Washington where we have one cat and fifteen chickens. We like gardening and genealogy. After doing our DNA tests, we learned that we are 7th cousins! I am a descendant of an early pioneer and State President of the Daughters of the Pioneers of Washington. It’s a fun and rewarding experience.”

The story of our supper table started about 1983 when my first husband and I bought our first house. We needed a dining table and heard about a furniture auction in Battle Ground where we lived. We attended the auction and there was a reproduction claw foot oak table with 6 chairs that we fell in love with. The top was beautifully inlaid, and the table was made from “piano oak” according to the auctioneer. We were not sure what he meant by “piano oak”, but it sounded good to us! We got the winning bid and brought our new table home. We ate many family dinners around that table and a few holiday meals as well. Later when we had a new house built, we brought the table with us.

After 18 years of marriage and our divorce, I brought the old table with me. It was a smaller house, and the dining area was small, but it worked out well. The kids were teenagers by then. Again, we had many family and holiday meals around that table. After three years, I remarried a wonderful man. One summer, we had an unusual meal when our step-grandsons came to visit. They went “fishing” for bullfrogs in our pond and we ate fried frog legs for dinner! On a different day, I found a garter snake that had come in through the French door. It was curled up and sleeping under the table! I carried it outside and let it go. It really wasn’t big enough to cook! Ha!

After 17 years, my husband and I bought another house, and the old oak table came with us. Now, six years later, we are blessed with grandchildren and their parents who come to visit, and we all sit around the old oak table and share a family meal. We also had holiday dinners around the old oak table with family and extended family. For Christmas 2023, sixteen were in attendance, and we set up two extra tables. The old oak table looked elegant set with my grandmother’s 1944 gold-rimmed china.

So far, that old table has survived two marriages, and four house moves. It has some scratches and a gouge on the top. Most of the chairs have had the rungs reglued. One chair still has scratches on the seat from the booster chair where our now 20-year-old grandson used to sit.

I considered having it refinished. But then, all the character and marks of love it gained over the years would be lost. It’s fine just the way it is!

The Horribly Wonderful Hospital Cafeteria

Wed, 14 Feb 2024 08:36:10 GMT

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Hannah Brown lives in Arizona with her husband Chris Brown and their two children Eve (age 9) and Roman (age 6). She owns a financial planning company called Monarch Wealth Management and enjoys spending time hiking, learning new recipes, reading, volunteering at church, and spending time with her family.

Hospital food. It isn’t the best nor is it the worst. It is never something I wanted or asked for however, God had other plans.

When Chris and I were 20 weeks pregnant with our second child, we found out that something was “wrong” with our son. It turned out he had a rare genetic defect called trisomy 3p. He had extra genetic material on his third chromosome. I thought this would make him a superhero but the doctors didn’t agree. It was a challenging pregnancy, constantly getting bad news about the precious life you are carrying. We instantly loved him but were heartbroken at the same time.

My mother-in-law lent me a book that changed my outlook on his little life. It was about a woman who took Romans 8:28 ESV to heart. “And we know that for those who love God, all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose.” I knew God was calling me to be faithful and to trust Him. He reminded me of this constantly throughout our pregnancy. We named our son Roman.

Not only did Roman have a genetic defect but this also caused him to have a congenital heart defect called Tetralogy of Fallot. We knew he would eventually need surgery but thankfully it was not urgent when he was born. Until it became urgent.

It was Christmas time and Roman was 4 months old. He came down with a cold and I thankfully had a doctor’s appointment already scheduled. We arrived and they checked his oxygen level and told me they called 911 and the ambulance would arrive shortly. This started the most challenging 3 months of my life.

I lived in the hospital with Roman while he was being treated and eventually needed emergency life-saving surgery. Chris had to stay home and take care of our daughter Eve. It was cold and flu season so no children were allowed up to patient rooms. But then there was the cafeteria at the hospital.

Every Saturday I would get to see my husband and daughter in the hospital cafeteria. It was the only thing I looked forward to each week. We would sit, laugh, and pray while we ate the cafeteria food. And for a moment, the world felt normal. It felt like our family was together, just being under the same roof. My heart was full again and energized me to continue fighting for our son.

Brown Family

Not only did the cafeteria serve as respite for my family but so many other connections were made. Friends would come and share a meal, our family would visit, and we would have “family dinner” with the parents of other patients who truly became like family. Some of them I couldn’t have survived those months without. I will never forget the hospital cafeteria and how it made me and Roman feel loved and supported. It healed our broken hearts.

Big Blessings Around Little Snack Tables

Wed, 07 Feb 2024 08:38:39 GMT

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Amanda is a local Preschool & Kindergarten Director at Prince of Peace ( website , Facebook , and Instagram ). She has a love for children and a heart for Jesus. She and her husband Zane enjoy raising their two young children on a small piece of property just north of Battle Ground, WA. Supported by a large surrounding family they enjoy sharing many family suppers, gatherings, snacks, and more around their homemade dining room table that Zane crafted when they first moved into their new home. The table is 9ft long and can sit 12 comfortably. It was Amanda’s biggest dream to have an extra-large table to gather around. Although it may be larger in size, it reminds her of these tiny tables she sees every day filled with children when she goes to work. A table full of love, fun, excitement, and Jesus’ many blessings.

In our family, food is the way to everyone’s heart. Full bellies create happy people, especially in children. There is nothing better than sharing a meal with someone you love and enjoying good company and conversation, no matter your age.

For me, that was brought to light when my son, at age three, first expressed his interest in “school.” I was shocked at the time! Scared, excited and to be honest, maybe even a little hurt. Was this him saying he didn’t enjoy spending his days with me and his baby sister? She is only 20 months younger and required a lot of attention then! I wasn’t sure how to feel, but I began my search for a school.

From many friend recommendations, we scheduled a tour at Prince of Peace Preschool just North of Battle Ground, WA. At the time we were going through a very stressful building situation during the height of Covid. It was mid-March when I scheduled my tour at the school halfway through the school year. I had been told many times that normally a mid-year tour would not have been possible. It was unheard of that they had space in the middle of the year. Enrollment was down because of Covid but I took it as a sign that God truly thought this could be the place for us.

After a very long tour (I was that parent–the one that stayed, and not just for a little while, for multiple hours) just observing my son, engaging with the other children, and getting to know the staff, I could tell my son seemed to be in a little piece of heaven. It wasn’t until I saw this small group of little three-year-olds sit around their tiny table with their tiny blue chairs, tiny hands folded preparing their hearts for snack time that I fell in love as their teacher led their snack prayer:

For the food we eat.

For the friends we meet.

For the life we live each day.

For the challenges we find.

For strength of mind.

We thank you, Lord, today.

Amen.

Watching these three-year-olds have a tiny grasp on being so thankful for their friends, this snack time, and saying grace together was all it took for me to know this was the place for our family. We enrolled that day and never looked back.

Prince of Peace became a second home for us. A place where I knew my son was safe and loved. A place where I knew I could bring my rambunctious toddler and let her join in during snack time and more while I met other Mommas and staff. We enjoyed a family space at every party, celebration, or get-together that was held. All centered around that snack time prayer together each time. It became so close to home and so close to my heart that when an opportunity to work there came I prayed for days, wondering if I was good enough to be a part of their snack time, every day.

As my children have worked their way through the POP school program they’ve made many friends, had different teachers, and had an abundance of new experiences but their snack time has always stayed true. It’s taught them what it means to give grace to God for all that we have. We still continue to say this snack prayer at home around our family table, just ready and willing to receive a full belly and happy hearts together.

Picnicking During the Pandemic

Wed, 31 Jan 2024 08:46:29 GMT

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Jenn Chen is a family and newborn photographer in Walnut Creek California. She uses her experiences as a mom of 2 toddlers to help young kids enjoy their photography sessions! You can follow her on Instagram and her website .

When the pandemic started, my baby was 5 months old.

I felt like I had finally gotten through the worst of my anxiety about being a new mother and felt ready to return to work. I was a nurse. My first two weeks back at work were filled with complex emotions of finding my balance as a working mom. Then suddenly March 16th, 2020 rolled around and it seemed our world was turned upside down.

Any balance I was starting to find was immediately taken away as my husband was laid off. Our daycare shut down. I suddenly felt the weight of being a new mother, sole wage earner, and more importantly, insurance carrier, but I was terrified to the point of panic attacks on my way to work, scared of what I might bring home to my baby.

A breath of fresh air

Then one day, my husband came up with the idea to pack up some lunch and go to this tiny little park a few miles from our house. We packed up the baby and a blanket and spread out on a soft patch of grass in the sun. On the other side of the park, another family smiled at us, their toddler wobbling around the grass. It seemed others had this idea too!

An early picnic… we didn’t even have our signature waterproof blanket

We continued this routine a few times a week, often seeing this same family. Over the weeks, we slowly moved our blankets closer together, and eventually were in speaking distance. We started chatting about all things parenting. These outings became an escape from the stress of the world. Becoming a new parent is isolating enough, but throw in a pandemic where no one wants to be around you because you’re a nurse, and it’s downright depressing!

Inviting others

Eventually, we stopped seeing the other family but realized this might be the perfect opportunity to meet up with some friends we’d been missing. We grew so fond of these little meals. We would each bring a blanket and would take turns bringing a meal. It might sound silly, but this simple act of sharing a meal with a friend made me feel so human again. It was a break from the craziness of the world, where we could focus on our little family and our routines. 2020 raged on, yet we continued finding new places to visit and new foods to try! We joked that we were connoisseurs of a park/ restaurant’s “picnic-ability.”

Returning to a new normal

I firmly believe that these tiny moments that we carved into our weekly routines are what got us through 2020. I felt like I connected to my husband and to friends in a way I hadn’t in a long time.

My daughter took her first steps over a plate of take-out nachos during one of our later picnics.

We started feeling pretty fancy once we started adding the wagon to our picnic setup!

My daughter’s first steps at one of our summer picnics

Seeing my mama for the first time in six months at a picnic

The first time I hugged my mom in over 6 months was at a picnic in a rose garden.

In retrospect, I feel so grateful for these little moments. We had time with our friends with no distractions – no screens, no place to be – just a waterproof blanket, a plate of chicken wings, and good company!

At the Table with Jesus

Wed, 24 Jan 2024 08:41:17 GMT

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Karen Sargent is a farm wife, Mama of 5, and Grammy of 13—so far. She is a lover of Jesus, editor, cowmom, and enneagram 9w1. Karen writes about faith, family, farm life, mental health, and more at www.karenlsargent.com . Find her on Instagram @karen.l.sargent .

“Close your eyes.

Imagine you are sitting at a table with Jesus, him in one chair, you in another across from him.

Can you picture it? How does that feel?”

This is the conversation that took place in therapy yesterday when we were talking about me losing my daddy and how I was not feeling the emotions I thought I should be feeling. I kept wondering what was wrong with me that I had not fallen apart, sobbing in grief. I felt stuck, bottled up. I’d been living in black-and-white since Daddy passed, on mute, not feeling much of anything.

I pictured a rough-hewn table, the kind you might get splinters from. Jesus sat across from me, hands outstretched to hold mine. My first thought was that I could not sit at that table with Jesus like we were two buddies on a coffee date.

In my mind’s picture, I could not keep myself in the chair. I threw myself on the floor, face down. I could not look at him across the table. He was too holy. I shouldn’t even be allowed to see him.

I lay on the floor and tears came in buckets—both in my imagining of this scenario and there on my therapist’s couch. I wondered if this was what she was expecting.

That Jesus would even be there in the room with me in the first place was overwhelming. Didn’t he have more important things to do, more important people to help? Why was he here with me, a nobody?

My therapist encouraged me to sit with it, to let it be what it was. “Just feel the feeling and don’t judge it” is what she always says.

Then in less than 30 seconds in my imagined scene, I was back in my chair at the table with Jesus. He was holding my hands across the table, leaning toward me with all the empathy in the world, feeling my grief with me. Nodding in agreement with my pain. Crying real tears with me, like he did when Lazarus died.

He knew. He understood my heartache. He’d been there, done that.

Isaiah says of the Messiah that he was “a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief . . . Surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows . . .” (Isaiah 53:3–4, KJV).

I know this is describing Jesus as the one who would take our sins upon himself and give us his righteousness, and I am thankful he did. But he carried more than our sins. He also carried our grief. He carried our sorrows—every one of them. Friends, he cries with us, grieves with us, sorrows with us. He is not afraid of our big emotions and neither should we be. We have a Friend to help us carry them.

When my therapist started walking me through this exercise, I was a little confused. But now I see.

Jesus invites us to the table so he can be with us. He sits across from us, next to us, and communes with us there. When I meet him at the table, he sees all of me, and I see him. We share more than food at the table; we share our hearts.

“Thou preparest a table before me . . . my cup runneth over.” (Psalms 23:5, KJV)

Grace Around the Dinner Group Table

Wed, 17 Jan 2024 08:56:22 GMT

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Abigail is a Scripture-soaked writer, joy stalker, and Bible teacher who stands by grace. She loves to help friends grow stronger in their faith as they take God at his word. Abigail lives with her husband and two teenage sons in rural Wisconsin where she enjoys fast walks, deep talks, chasing sunsets, and challenging the soul’s status quo.

Find faith-nourishing free resources and subscribe to her blog at AbigailWallace.com . Follow on Facebook , Instagram , or the JoyfullyPressingOn blog for more stories of defiant joy and gritty grace. Get Abigail’s book Meek Not Weak: A 12-Week Guide to the Gentle Strength of Meekness at Amazon.

This story is about a dinner table. But it’s not about a particular table, or two or three or four. It’s about eight different dinner tables.

I’m talking about the dinner group table.

The story starts on Valentine’s weekend 25 years ago at our church’s Sweetheart Dance. There may have been 20 couples on the floor, but the only couple I remember is Steve and Jen. They were newlyweds then, when Jim and I had just celebrated two years.

I don’t remember dancing but I do remember exchanging phone numbers with Jen. She invited us for dinner that spring, and after Steve’s homemade pico de gallo, we four were fast friends.

What came next was totally unexpected, the stuff of dinner group legend.

One night the next summer, after birthday cake in our kitchen, Jen popped the question:

“Do you think you’d want to get together each month for dinner?”

Then I think Jen said something about “sharing life.”

It may have taken a day to commit. Soon we became three couples, then four, then five. We adopted a handy-dandy alphabetical hosting rotation: Boucher’s house in January, Jerde’s in February, Nelson’s in March, Venden’s in April, Wallace’s in May, and then back to Boucher’s.

But things change.

That array lasted seven years. Then the Jerde’s moved up north. We went on for a while until another couple came to the table. Couples have left the table, and others have sat. But I will never say replaced, because no one can ever be.

In the 24 years since the first dinner group in a fishnet-draped dining room table laden with Caribbean-themed coconut shrimp, there have been eight different couples, and 24 children added to our families since then, plus a few who went on ahead. We have shared about 240 meals together. You share life when you share that many meals around the dinner group table.

Every month has a theme. Name a country and odds are good that we’ve done it. We’ve eaten Irish Colcannon, Canadian Poutine, and Turkish Baklava. We’ve tried English, Spanish, German, Russian, Croatian, Jamaican, Brazilian, Australian (with a rousing rendition of Waltzing Matilda), Mongolian, Ethiopian, Moroccan, Romanian, Korean, Chinese, Japanese, Nepalese, Icelandic, Filipino and Thai. No Azerbaijani—yet.

We’ve chosen holidays, food colors, spices, and important people as themes. Did you know President Lincoln was a big fan of Chicken Fricassee?

We learn a lot about each other, ourselves, and our world around the dinner group table. Some of us love dinner-themed trivia, including the famous, “I Have, Who Has” dinner group version. That’s how I learned that Greece consumes the most olives per person and Spain produces the most. It’s where I learned that Argan oil from Morocco is good in your hair or on your salad, that apples are in the rose family, and that the French called tomatoes “love apples.” Some of us love that game, and some of us give grace.

We learn to give and receive grace at the table. We learn who likes goat cheese and who doesn’t, who’s allergic to seafood and who can’t handle caffeine, who likes to premix their salads and who cannot let entrees touch on the plate. We learn what subjects are hot and which ones are tender to whose hearts. We learn to consider and listen.

And we learn about forgiveness. Last month, I grew impatient and said an unkind thing. I texted on the way home and found grace when I confessed.

There have been unintended wounds over the years. That first decade, as children were rapidly hatching, we devised a secret code to announce a pregnancy. The moms-to-be would sneak in some pink and the husband would don baby blue. It was fun to spy suspicious salmon stripes on her sock or a cerulean spot on his hat. But a few years into my infertility, pink and blue both started looking black.

In case you wondered, there have been food fails too. My Taiwanese Nian Gao (Glutinous Rice Cake) jumps to mind. I’ve never eaten a flip-flop, but I’m pretty sure Nian Gao gave me a taste.

And there was always grace for these.

For always, the God of all grace who gives more grace is with us at the dinner group table.

Pictured: Jim, Ab, Jen, and Steve, on the 20th anniversary of our first dinner group. All other photos are of foods that nourished us at the dinner group table. And if you’d like to get your own dinner group started and have questions, Abigail would love to help.

Lobster for the Lady

Wed, 10 Jan 2024 08:50:13 GMT

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Kristen is a recovering fundamentalist who believes that truth, faith, and the sovereignty of God will survive deconstruction and are absolutely critical components of healthy reconstruction. She loves literary analysis and reading scripture with an analyst’s eye. She lives in rural Ohio with her husband–Russ, daughter–Kate, faithful dog–Lucy, and her grandma’s cat–Butters (that’s a story for another day). When her parents aren’t snowbirds, they join the party in their mother-in-law’s suite, affectionately referred to as Cabin B.

I was sitting at my writing desk attempting to knock out my social media posts for the next week when my phone rang, showing my father-in-law’s name on the screen. I thought it was odd because we aren’t the “call each other regularly” kind of family. In fact, in the last year, he had only called when his septic system backed up and he was desperate for the name of the company we used when we had our own septic tank emergency.

I answered.

“I need a favor,” the gruff voice said as soon as I picked up the phone. “Can you do me a favor?” he went on.

Not knowing what this favor would entail and fearing it had something to do with a septic emergency, I answered, “Well, that depends on what this favor is,” laughing awkwardly and fearing the worst.

He explained that he needed me to make dinner for his wife, my mother-in-law, for her birthday the next evening. I knew what was coming, having heard the story of the time he made her Lobster Thermidor multiple times.

He told me he was dropping the recipe book off with money to cover the supplies, and I immediately started asking a million questions to make sure I didn’t screw this monumental favor up: Side dishes? Favorite foods? Dessert?

His only request: Lobster Thermidor. The rest would be up to me.

No pressure.

He dropped off “Rachel Ray 30 Minute Meals” and cash. I went to work creating a menu, a shopping list, and a plan for creating the perfect meal. Before they mentioned it, I had never even heard of Lobster Thermidor, let alone made it!

I looked on Pinterest, trying to wrap my head around my task. Cooking doesn’t intimidate me, but cooking new things I’ve never eaten before for a monumental special occasion caused me a bit of anxiety.

As if that anxiety wasn’t enough, have you ever tried to find Lobster–fresh or even frozen–in the sticks of Ohio? For dinner the next evening?

No?

Me either.

Fun fact–it’s impossible.

I picked up all the other groceries I needed that evening–except the Lobster; those I had to drive an hour to Costco the next day to find.

You could say it was a stressful day.

I am very much a Type A personality, which means that when people are coming to dinner at my house, I like everything done when they get there, the table set, and it to look like the meal had been effortless.

This was not the case.

Rachael Ray is a liar.

Lobster Thermidor takes way more than 30 minutes!

When my in-laws walked in the door, I was cutting the shells off the tale and hadn’t even started on the Thermidor sauce.

I was a wreck.

45 minutes later, the Lobster Thermidor was on the table, and we all shared a good laugh–somewhat at my expense, dinner was delicious, the cake was exquisite, and my mother-in-law couldn’t quit raving about how this was the best birthday she could ever remember having.

I could have said no when my father-in-law called, bowed to the fear, and found a thousand reasons why I couldn’t make this meal happen. That would have been the easiest response.

Even though I was a sweaty, frazzled mess by the time dinner was served, my stress paled in comparison to the blessing I was to them that night–simply because I stepped out of my comfort zone to meet the needs of my loved ones.

There’s something so intimate and so meaningful about the entire process of feeding the ones we love, but there’s also something so intimate and so meaningful to sitting around the table with them, opening your hearts and lives to them, and meeting them right where they are.

Friends, during his last supper with them, Jesus left his disciples with the command to love others. The next time someone challenges you to move out of your comfort zone to heap love on others, I pray you see it as a privilege and know that what you’re being asked to do just might be the biggest blessing they’ve ever received.

Where to find Kristen…

The Love Language of Food

Wed, 03 Jan 2024 09:00:42 GMT

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Gina writes about herself, “I’m a wife, mom of 3, and an accidental farmer. Although owning and running a farm was not where I imagined my life would take me, I’m right where God intended me to be… and loving it!

My focus for our farm is community.

A place where people can come, feel God’s love, and want to stay awhile. Truth be told, people come and shop with us weekly and although our products nourish physically, it’s me who’s filled spiritually and mentally on all levels by spending time and connecting with others. Every day I get the honor of witnessing God’s creation at work and it doesn’t get any better than that.”

For more from Gina and FreshORR Family Farms, head over to the website and follow her on Instagram .

I wasn’t just an only child; I was an army brat as well. We moved nearly every three years from the time I was a few weeks old until well into high school. Visiting my grandparents and cousins was limited to just a few holidays throughout the year, and in some cases, depending on where we lived, a year or two passed between visits. It wasn’t until I became a young adult that I realized the significance of the meals we shared when we were together.

Looking back, I experienced the fleeting nature of life firsthand. Our constant moves and infrequent visits to relatives meant that our family gatherings were cherished, rare moments that could have been overlooked. However, what remained constant, regardless of our location or the time that had passed since we last saw each other, was the power of sharing a meal. Oh, the memories I have now. Just the thought of certain dishes now brings me back to hearing my father’s laughter and the smell of walking into my grandmother’s home.

Food is so much more than just sustenance. It’s a universal language of love, a warm embrace, a memory, and an age-old tradition that has been passed down through generations. From the moment we’re born, being fed is our very first experience of comfort and security. Think about it – a baby nestled in your arms, finding fulfillment in that gentle, rhythmic motion of being fed. It’s an instinctive response that stays with us for life.

The meals I shared with my family are memories I hold onto. Each dish, whether prepared by my grandmother, or aunts, told a story of its own. It was a connection to our past (my great-grandparents were immigrants from Poland and Italy), and a taste of being home while still living in a new place. Those meals were an expression of love when words seemed insufficient.

Now as a wife and mom, for me, preparing a meal is not just a daily chore. It’s an expression of love, a way to say, “I care about you.” When I cook a hearty dinner and gather my loved ones around the table, I’m not merely putting food on their plates; I’m fueling their bodies and nourishing their hearts and souls. It’s a time we reconnect, share stories from our day, and strengthen our bond. It’s a reminder that, in this fast-paced world, we still have the time and space to come together and cherish each other’s company.

I’m sure you can relate to the feeling of warmth that washes over you when you sit down to a lovingly prepared meal. Whether it’s your mom’s famous lasagna, your grandma’s secret recipe for chicken soup, or that one dish your best friend always makes for you when you’re feeling down – there’s something supernatural about sharing a meal. It’s like a comforting hug for your taste buds and your heart.