Gathering with Glad Hearts
BRE DOUCETTE
Listen to this devotion
“They broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts.” Acts 2:46b (NIV)
“Do you want to cancel?” my husband responded from the living room — a safe distance from my pre-gathering meltdown.
It was shocking how tempted I was to say yes.
I
had no idea what to prepare for our pastors that night after examining
the pantry. I sifted through mediocre offerings for the third time that
morning. Still nothing.
“No. We’ve wanted to have this
get-together for months. I’ll figure it out. I’m just …” What?
Unmotivated? Wasn’t I the one who had joyfully extended the invitation
and then spent weeks envisioning a stylish “restaurant worthy” meal,
served in the comfort of our old farmhouse?
I moved over to the
refrigerator to survey some condiments, green beans and a jar of
preserves. As far as inspiration went, the fridge was empty. Suddenly, I
was jolted by a realization. Pulling my sweater snugly around me, I
confessed: “I’m empty.”
My husband offered some words of
encouragement, but I was already chatting with God. Help me, Lord. My
grand vision has faded. What do I have to offer right now? What can I do
to serve the people coming tonight?
“Soup.” That still, small voice spoke to my heart.
“Really?”
I challenged. “I’m scrapping my plan of hosting an elegant night for a
meal in a bowl?” With horror, I recalled talking up the gathering at
church. In my mind, this was hardly a meal that warranted advanced
promotion.
Before distress took over, a favorite verse from Acts
came to mind: “They broke bread in their homes and ate together with
glad and sincere hearts” (Acts 2:46b).
With relief, I took stock —
not of my kitchen, but of my heart. My focus had been on how the night
would impress. Now I was replenished by what had inspired that first
mention of gathering months ago … a sincere desire to welcome people
into our home.
I headed to the market with my newly humbled heart
to collect my ingredients. Skepticism turned to anticipation once I saw
the store’s bounty. As I gathered sweet carrots, aromatic bay leaves,
unwieldy bunches of kale and cloves of fresh garlic, my spirit filled
with all the ingredients I wanted to serve to our friends: gratitude,
nourishment, beauty, simplicity, love.
When my husband checked in
that afternoon, he was surprised to find me exuberantly humming as I
chopped carrots. But he wasn’t surprised when I told him I felt led to
serve my hearty soup with salad and a loaf of crusty bread. He smiled
and reminded me that was his favorite fall meal.
An hour before
our guests arrived, I savored the chance to tend to last details. The
lack of energy I experienced before was replaced with momentum as I set
the table. I turned on soothing music and placed delicate branches in a
vase for a centerpiece. Elegant, I thought and sent up a prayer of
thanks. I lit the candles as my husband opened the door to welcome our
guests in from the brisk New Hampshire evening air.
They both
paused to take in the aroma of dinner, and as they removed their coats,
it was as if the weight of their day was taken from their shoulders. We
gathered at our farm table and shared a sweet blessing. Any residual
stress from my second-guessing disappeared the moment our friends broke
off chunks of bread and dipped them into the soup with great
satisfaction.
Conversation took flight, laughter flowed. The night was easy. Comforting and perfectly simple.
I
took in the scene with overflowing gratitude. That night, I was
reminded how God wants to be a part of all our plans, even the mundane
ones. And that our humblest of offerings become abundant gifts — when
they’re shared with a sincere, glad heart.
When we share a meal
with the ones we love, we not only refresh those who come to receive,
but we find ourselves refreshed in the process as well.
Father,
thank You for the many gifts You have given me. Remind me to use those
gifts to bless those around me. Help me put aside the pressure of having
the “perfect home” or meal and to simply enjoy time with one another.
In Jesus’ Name, Amen.