We started the New Year off quietly. It was a Sunday, but we didn’t go to church. We stayed at home and worked some and rested a little, and we ended the day with communion. Just the family, around the kitchen table. My husband talked about the simplicity of the remembrance, and we passed the lefse and the grape kombucha from blessed hand to blessed hand. Sharing the feast. Starting the year together.
I took pictures, even though Lyndon said it was distracting. I took pictures because I wanted to remember.
When I was younger and busy with the babies, we lived in the same town as my grandma. I’d pile us into the old car, once a week or so, and we would go and visit. And the bigger boys would race down the hall to her room while I came more slowly, with the baby and the bags. And we’d sit and talk and look through the old pictures and remember.
I was there on a Sunday once. A Sunday afternoon, sitting on the edge of her bed with the baby in my lap and the boys on the floor. And a woman from Grandma’s church came, smiling and gentle, with communion for her. She spread the little banquet out on the small table, and she invited me to join.
And I said no.
I said I’d already had communion at my church earlier that morning. But the truth is, I was caught off guard. I had been raised in a certain way, in a certain fellowship, with certain ideas of truth and the right way to do things. And Grandma’s way was different.
So I sat and watched as Grandma and her friend took the bread and the wine together, and I heard Grandma say this is as close as we can get to Him in this world. And I saw her close her eyes and pray and commune.
And I’ve wished, ever since, that I’d accepted the invitation. I wish I’d said yes. I wish I’d shared that moment with her. I wish I’d learned earlier in my life to move past the well-intentioned message of my early faith education.
The message that kept me from sharing communion with my grandmother when I had the chance.
January 29, 2012 at 9:27 am
Really enjoyed this. You should be praised for passing on a different sort of rythym of worship to your family. It will serve them well as they grow. Thanks for writing this.
January 29, 2012 at 5:01 pm
Thank you for that, Brad.
January 29, 2012 at 9:31 am
I was so excited to see the lefse that I didn’t finish reading the blog yet! Who makes it? Lefse is a real treat in out house. We
Eat it with real butter and lots of it!
January 29, 2012 at 9:36 am
Ok, I read it and now I can get deep. What exactly
Was it that kept you from sharing it, Janelle? Was it fear because as you said, it was different than what you knew, what you had been raised with. And why were you fearful ( if assumably so)… Did you think it was wrong or just did you not know what to do?
Keep writing, please! I am lOving it. It
Expands me in so many good ways!
January 29, 2012 at 5:09 pm
My mom still makes lefse at Christmas, and she mailed some to me. We are Norwegian and lefse has been a Christmas favorite my whole life. I love it!
I’ll have to spend some time thinking about the “why”. Another post for another day, I guess.
January 29, 2012 at 1:17 pm
Janelle, a touching and loving story – thank you for sharing.
Linda and Wes.
January 29, 2012 at 9:17 pm
Thank you.
January 31, 2012 at 8:04 pm
We have a long family history of doing communion together as a family, even if we had been to church. It is a wonderful thing to share and be a part of, but I must say doing it with lefse is a very special touch! Lovely post Janelle.
February 2, 2012 at 8:26 am
What a beautiful family tradition. I have loved the times when we’ve been camping or travelling and we’ve shared communion as a family. The intimacy seems to make it all so meaningful. I can imagine actually sitting around that table with Him, that last time. As family.
February 2, 2012 at 1:41 pm
I understand the regret. We have all grown as we journey to the next growing point, and the next, and the next. Aren’t we blessed by God’s grace that covers us so deeply!?
April 7, 2012 at 5:33 pm
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