Celebrate the Feast

I've often dreamed of someday having a place where guests could come and stay and be refreshed. There'd be food, music, talking, laughter, and they'd leave feeling well fed, well rested, and renewed. At times, friends have come alongside and we've tried to live out this community. Sometimes we've felt disillusioned, found out it was hard, or I felt like it was out of reach because I don't have a house of my own yet, a family, or seemingly the funds to make this work. I also know my social limitations. Like Bilbo in The Hobbit, I'm more concerned sometimes that people will trash the place, make a mess, break the dishes, eat all the food. So in a sense, I long for Rivendell of the elves but live like a hobbit at Bag End.

Last night, I saw a glimpse of Rivendell. I have a friend from Boise staying for the week as he takes an intensive winterterm class at the college where I teach. We've had time to talk, grab some Chinese, and watch Boise State beat Oklahoma in the Fiesta Bowl (incredible game). Another friend rolled into town last night from Lansing, Michigan, on his way to Joplin, Missouri. Neither of my friends had met each other, but were quickly talking like long lost friends. We grabbed some food from Kroger's (paying for it on the way out), and went home and cooked supper. My roommate Jeremiah joined us, and soon the food was done, the table was set, and we were around the dining room table eating, talking, enjoying being together. It felt good. This hasn't happened in a while.

Let me back up. I've been living in the house since September after a quick move out of another house in town where I'd been living with friends. In the midst of school and some painful things going on in the lives of my friends, I found myself retreating into silence, putting up walls, not trusting others. My roommate and I share a love for fantasy and sci-fi movies and games, but that's where the similarities seem to end. I met him at a time when I wasn't letting anyone in, so to be fair, he didn't stand a chance.

But here we all were, four of us, sitting around the table, and there was something both hopeful and healing about it. My roommate and I still have a ways to go when it comes to finding common ground, but around the table it felt like we were all being drawn into something, sharing our journeys of the last couple months, talking about movies and sports, and things we were learning, and inevitably turning to talking about God and a desire for something more in our lives.

My friend from Lansing has a gift for speaking truth in my life, whether it's telling me he likes white rice over the multi-grain stuff we cooked last night, or telling me when I'm putting up walls and confronting me about the need to stay in community during times of crisis rather than isolating. He admits he tends to go into isolation as well, but said that in a book he read that staying in community is better :). In the midst of the time, I felt something changing in me, believing again, finding peace and hope, and the place where we lived seemed to be filled with light and presence rather than just a place to drop books, grab a quick bite and head back out the door again.

After the meal we did the dishes, then three of us went to the gym to shoot some hoops. Today after breakfast, my friend from Lansing got back on the road heading for Joplin, while my friend from Boise leaves on Saturday. I don't know what life will be like when they're gone, but for now, it helped to be reminded again of the things that can happen around a simple feast of chicken, vegetables, rice, and good friends. I feel like I might be standing taller, even, kind of like an elf.