For my masters course we had to write a multi-genre portfolio about an overarching topic. My topic was family support...thought I would share one of my pieces.
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| Grammy and Matthew carrying on the tradition this summer (although I think he's more of a help than I ever was!) |
Mom, often confused with Martha Stewart, always had a home cooked dinner on the table as my dad arrived home from a long day’s work. All of us kids would make the journey to the dinner table from our respective places around our house. Every night, five kids and their parents, would enjoy dinner together. Sitting down and sharing about our days together instilled in me the importance of a supportive family. It’s a value I hold close to my heart as a newly married woman, hoping to instill the value in my future children as well.
The rectangular table surrounded by a bench on one of the longer sides and chairs on the remaining three sides. Dad’s spot at the head of the table with mom to his left, which allowed her easy access to the kitchen. Since us kids didn’t have assigned seats we changed positions as often as a teenager update their Facebook status. The rustic brown bench with with mom’s beautiful handwritten alphabet scribbled along the back support was my favorite place to sit. It was on that bench I received encouragement to go after my dreams and face my fears, lectures on having good character even when it’s the tough thing to do, and confidence when I didn’t believe in myself. Our family was a unit and we had each other’s back, no matter what.
My family is very competitive, and dinner was not an exception. A clay pig isn’t much to fight over for many people, but for my family it was the cause of tears and battles. Each dinner my mom would place the pig in front of the diner with the worst table manners. Throughout dinner the pig’s spot would move like a queen in an intense chess game, depending on who made a foul move. At the end of dinner if you ended up with the pig you were on dish duty. Of course, me being the youngest of five, I inevitably would end up with the stupid pig. My siblings would laugh at me and quickly leave the table to go back to whatever they were doing and I was left staring down the dinner swine. After lots of tears, complaining, and pleading my mom would save me from dishes duty and help me complete the daunting task of cleaning the dishes of seven people.
Looking back, I can’t recall a time when we didn’t pray before our dinner. Mom and dad have a strong faith, one of the few that are actually lived out. They taught my siblings and I how to put our relationship with God first in our lives, in good times and in bad. Holding hands with the people you love most in the world and giving gratitude to God before sharing a meal strikes me to my core. It put things into perspective after a bad day and humbles you after a great day.
While I don’t remember all the dishes mom cooked, one thing I do remember is dinner always ended with dessert, sometimes even second desserts. Mom has a mind blowing baking ability and she never disappointed with her ooey gooey chocolate cake, apple pie, strawberry pretzel brownies, or homemade ice cream--just to name a few. You only got dessert if you finished your whole meal, which caused a few problems in my mind. I learned quickly that if I wanted something bad enough going through a little struggle, in this case eating the green heap of vegetables on my plate, was worth it. Many a dinners ended in tears and yammers of the world’s injustice because I couldn’t get dessert. Through it all mom and dad never gave in. They stood strong as a team and supported each other, even when I was being a bit of a brat. While I didn’t realize it at the time they were modeling what it meant to be a team and how to stand their ground. I thought they were being stubborn and mean, but they were being parents in guiding me and protecting me from stomachaches (and bigger things further down the road). Even though I hated them because they stood in the way of the last piece of goodness I never doubted their infinite love for me and my best interests.
A fly on the wall of the Scott household probably thought our family dinner rituals were pure chaos, but they weren’t. They were a holy mess of love and family. The sum of all the dinners taught me the values of communication, faith, support, and fun within a family.
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| Jess and I cooked dinner for my parents before we left for Brasil |
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| Love my parents and the hunk on the right |
