RELATIONSHIP: "Eat your food, son..."

     This blog is not ours, not directly. It is Jean-Luc's. He wrote this not long ago, and I asked him if I could reprint it on our blog. So, from Jean-Luc's perspective, come sit with us at dinner.

     Our dinner table was always a center of laughter, of joy, of stories and songs, of the day's events, of schedules and commitments, and of discipline and correction. I view our table with deep fondness...it has fostered so much that I see as necessary to my growth. It also fostered memories which I cherish and will re-live when my childhood is far behind me.

     Our table was a place where we entertained guests, foreigners, the homeless, the helpless, relatives, outcasts, and friends. It was where Dad taught us to sing, and dutifully bore our painful, childish screaming attempt in the process. Our table heard conversations about God, life, government, sports, money, marriage, children, wine, food, church, the military, family, and about love.

     The round shape of our dinner table has puzzled me. When I was younger, I viewed it as an oddity (after all, none of my friends had round tables). As I grow older, it signifies the respect and equality which my parents show us when we come together as a family. No person's opinion is omitted or overlooked; everyone is responsible to contribute. The things for which the table stands are an integral part of my being. I was shaped and molded, I grew and developed, I laughed and loved (and even lied occasionally) at our round table. That table represents values, memories, and lessons which I cannot divorce from my childhood. The importance is inestimable; the lessons, invaluable; the memories, irreplaceable.

     It was at the table that I was taught to serve. Meal times were a priority in our house. We sat, ate, and prayed together. Because of the large fanfare it took to feed six children and two parents, meals were a daily, family activity. Through setting the table, wiping the table, bringing food, sweeping, etc...I learned humility. I had to humble myself, submitting myself to the will of my parents and siblings, and serve them. I learned that service requires humility.

     It was at the table that I was taught to love. Meals were not always a smooth affair. Occasionally, conversation became heated (or I would kick my little brother under the table). Drinks might be spilled, or food catapulted across the room. Through the chaos, we conversed with one another, and shared life together. I learned (and am still learning) to care about what others were saying, and about what they thought. My parents practiced endless patience and love in dealing with me and my siblings.

     It was at the table where I learned to listen. Listening, for me, was, is, and will be one of my most difficult challenges. As a young lad, I came home bursting with stories of the day's adventures, happenings, and mishaps. Meal times were an opportunity for me to narrate the day's fantastic events to an audience of seven interested listeners! Or not.
      Dad was constantly correcting me, "Son, it's not about you. How many people are at this table?"
      "Eight." I responded.
      "Therefore, you should talk one-eighth of the time, and listen the other seven-eighths."
      When I did talk too much (which was often), he would calmly redirect my exuberant energy..."Eat your food, son."

     Meal times, whether it was breakfast, lunch, or dinner, forced us to listen to one another. It forced me to focus on someone else's day, priorities, agenda, or story. It forced me to hear what was going on in their lives, thereby forcing me to be a part of it. And this coercion was in no way demeaning nor detrimental to my development. On the contrary, it made me value people where I otherwise would have focused on myself. "All the world's a stage," but I am not the main actor.

     We loved one another; therefore, we listened to one another. Through listening we learned about each other. As we learned, we discovered what each person needed, and we met those needs. By meeting each family member's needs, whether physical, emotional, or spiritual, we were serving. By serving each other, we loved each other. Because we loved one another we valued the other person, and their thoughts and ideas. Because we valued them, we listened to them. As we listened, we discovered their needs, and met those needs. We served. We loved. We listened. And the cycle continues. Serving, loving, and listening are all interconnected. As you follow the cycle, relationships are taken deeper – to new levels. More listening creates more service which shows more love, and so on. And the relationship continues to deepen and germinate, and soon there is rich connection.

The Magic of the Family Meal

This week we’re going to share highlights of an article with you. This article, The Magic of the Family Meal, was originally in TIME Magazine, June 4, 2006. The full text can be found here:
http://tinyurl.com/parwis1

What an important time of day….sharing a meal together as a family. A time of connecting, of touching one another’s lives. Some of our most treasured times are around the table. Like Randy Strom says…”If you really want to get to know us, eat a meal with us.”

What has your experience been? How do you feel about this? How have you seen it work? Share your thoughts. Share your experiences. Share your story.

The Magic of the Family Meal TIME Magazine

Close your eyes and picture Family Dinner. June Cleaver is in an apron and pearls, Ward in a sweater and tie. The napkins are linen, the children are scrubbed, steam rises from the green-bean casserole, and even the dog listens intently to what is being said. This is where the tribe comes to transmit wisdom, embed expectations, confess, conspire, forgive, repair. The idealized version is as close to a regular worship service, with its litanies and lessons and blessings, as a family gets outside a sanctuary.

......Just because we are sitting together doesn't mean we have anything to say: children bicker and fidget and daydream; parents stew over the remains of the day. Often the richest conversations, the moments of genuine intimacy, take place somewhere else, in the car, say, on the way back from soccer at dusk, when the low light and lack of eye contact allow secrets to surface.

Yet for all that, there is something about a shared meal--not some holiday blowout, not once in a while but regularly, reliably--that anchors a family even on nights when the food is fast and the talk cheap and everyone has someplace else they'd rather be. And on those evenings when the mood is right and the family lingers, caught up in an idea or an argument explored in a shared safe place where no one is stupid or shy or ashamed, you get a glimpse of the power of this habit and why social scientists say such communion acts as a kind of vaccine, protecting kids from all manner of harm.

In fact, it's the experts in adolescent development who wax most emphatic about the value of family meals, for it's in the teenage years that this daily investment pays some of its biggest dividends. Studies show that the more often families eat together, the less likely kids are to smoke, drink, do drugs, get depressed, develop eating disorders and consider suicide, and the more likely they are to do well in school, delay having sex, eat their vegetables, learn big words and know which fork to use. "If it were just about food, we would squirt it into their mouths with a tube," says Robin Fox, an anthropologist who teaches at Rutgers University in New Jersey, about the mysterious way that family dinner engraves our souls. "A meal is about civilizing children. It's about teaching them to be a member of their culture."

The most probing study of family eating patterns was published last year by the National Center on Addiction and Substance Abuse (CASA) at Columbia University and reflects nearly a decade's worth of data gathering. The researchers found essentially that family dinner gets better with practice; the less often a family eats together, the worse the experience is likely to be, the less healthy the food and the more meager the talk.

….The older that kids are, the more they may need this protected time together, but the less likely they are to get it. …

…..The food-court mentality--Johnny eats a burrito, Dad has a burger, and Mom picks pasta--comes at a cost. Little humans often resist new tastes; they need some nudging away from the salt and fat and toward the fruits and fiber. A study in the Archives of Family Medicine found that more family meals tends to mean less soda and fried food and far more fruits and vegetables.

Beyond promoting balance and variety in kids' diets, meals together send the message that citizenship in a family entails certain standards beyond individual whims. This is where a family builds its identity and culture. Legends are passed down, jokes rendered, eventually the wider world examined through the lens of a family's values. In addition, younger kids pick up vocabulary and a sense of how conversation is structured. They hear how a problem is solved, learn to listen to other people's concerns and respect their tastes. "A meal is about sharing," says Doherty. "I see this trend where parents are preparing different meals for each kid, and it takes away from that. The sharing is the compromise. Not everyone gets their ideal menu every night."

….Research on family meals does not explore whether it makes a difference if dinner is with two parents or one or even whether the meal needs to be dinner. For families whose schedules make evenings together a challenge, breakfast or lunch may have the same value. So pull up some chairs. Lose the TV. Let the phone go unanswered. And see where the moment takes you.

There it is…some thoughts, some research, some ideas. Looking forward to hearing from you!