Wednesday Night Supper

At the close of another long day, battles fought and warriors weary, we
stumble through the darkness that has fallen over the city. All is quiet
on the street that has lived many lives.

The ancient, red brick building, which has sheltered many a hope and dream,
stands sentinel as car doors close, one by one. Husbands tote small, square
bundles that promise some new, exciting dish, while wives pull at purse
straps and direct the effort. The sounds of children, a blend of laughter
and life, mix with the light that spills forth from the doors.

Welcome home. The smells of coffee, fried chicken and the deliciousness of
friendship waft through the air and pull us closer inside. The regulars are
always there, armed with ready smiles and a friendly hello. Bob, George,
Lynn, Ed. Annie scuttles about, pen and paper in hand, ensuring that those
who are heartbroken or sick are remembered by our family.

All eyes turn to the table as Ted Cline places his dish upon it. It is
common knowledge that Shirley's beautiful smile is matched only by her
skills in the kitchen. We all help clean her dishes each week. If the Boyles
are in town, the kids are treated to hamburgers; if not, we all go for the
fried chicken. Between the broccoli rice casserole, salads, and Sue Ellen''s
beans and cornbread, no one goes hungry in our family.

Ron watches from the kitchen and greets everyone who passes. Some of us want
to go where everybody knows our name. The tinkling of a small, brass bell
signals the beginning of dinner. We form two lines, which bulge and sway
as friends let each other break in line. Between the cutlery and coffee, we
embrace each other, inquire about struggles, celebrate successes, and get
reacquainted. We build the bonds of family.

And even the long tables, wrapped in white paper cloth, hold the love and
regard we have for one another. Marge, Al and Annie. Nelda and Rodney. Bob
and John. Lynn, Charles, Stephanie, Brian and sometimes, Ethan, bright as a
copper penny. Families. Our family.

After dinner, we share in the reminder of our collected blessings. A few
words and meditations center us in the midst of personal storms. Each
thought, each verse of scripture, arm us for the days ahead. And Dianne''s
bright smile, encouraging and warm, is a hug for the family she so obviously
loves.

Then, all too quickly, the moment is over. Dishes are washed, tablecloths
go in the trash, and Ted picks up the dish that has been all but licked clean.
We hug once more, say goodbye and go our separate ways into the night.
Though apart, we remain a part of one another, buoyed by the goodwill and
strength that a family imparts to one another.

(I noticed last  that Ed Malcolm''s jacket fell off the back of his chair
without his realizing it. John Calhoun wasted no time in getting up from
his chair and replacing it. This was done so quietly that no one else noticed.
I saw it, though, and was immediately struck by his action. It reminded me
exactly why I love Wednesday night. Wednesday night is a family reunion,
and what a wonderful family I have.)

-- Melanie Daniels