over and over again, at family reunions and every possible point in between.
My husband’s family has a ton of them. Inside jokes, quotes from every 80’s series and cartoon ever made, stories from their childhood. I am still, after twenty-one years of knowing this family, discovering the sources for all of these magnificent (that may too strong of a word) tales.
I wish I had known my husband’s paternal grandparents. There are many stories of them that make me smile and long for the time when the dead in Christ will be raised. I know they’ll be there.
Today I thought of them again as we sat down to eat with Seth’s parents. The story goes that Grandma would never sit down with the family when dinner was being served, even after encouragement from her children or grandchildren to do so. It was her goal to make a good meal for her family and hospitality and service were in the very depths of her soul. Everyone else’s satisfaction satisfied her, she was secondary.
I saw that in my father-in-law tonight. I had seen it before, but hadn’t really watched the whole dance take place. Everyone else ate and as they did he went back and forth between the kitchen and the dining room making sure that no one wanted for a thing, right through dessert. He nibbled on a few things, but never sat down to eat until most of the chairs at the table had been vacated.
He too delights in serving others and…again, stories are told…about times when a meal wouldn’t turn out like he had hoped, something was too brown or a bit underdone. The sons and daughters and son-in-law and daughters-in-law, mimic their dad in his words and in their best impression of his deep voice probably more often than they should, “Just trying to make a good meal.”
Tonight as I watched him, I could see a sense of pride in having done that very thing. He has done the same thousands upon thousands of times before. Dinner was served and it was good.