On our first date, Rod’s kind heart was on display as he gallantly held my elbow and guided me around a deep puddle. He listened while I talked about my adventures and had a quick wit that captured my heart. Who knew that our latest big adventure would give me a fresh appreciation of these same qualities in the man I met and fell in love with long ago. What prompted this resurgence of admiration? Eating meals with new friends.
According to my calculations, I have eaten approximately 30,000 meals with Rod. During those meals, I heard his family stories, listened to his jokes, and discussed topics ranging from what color car to buy to why the world is “going to hell in a handbasket” (to borrow one of my grandmothers’ favorite phrases). While the kids lived at home, we had a strict rule of no TV during dinner. That way we could hear daily updates and end dinner with a family devotional read by the person who finished eating first. (Caveat: while the above plan did exist, often real-life events wreaked havoc with that plan. Stay tuned to future articles about parenting lessons we have learned–usually the hard way).
After the kids moved away, Rod and I ignored the TV rule and began to watch Netflix series while we ate. We have seen way more episodes of “Heartland” and “Friday Night Lights” than I care to admit. Through the years, mealtimes devolved into companionable joint tv viewing with very few discussions about how our days went, let alone any new plans to save the world. Until now.
Nearly five months ago, we downsized and moved into a two-bedroom, independent living unit in a retirement community. (In a future article, I’ll explain how we decided to make this huge lifestyle change). One big difference in our new life is that we eat one meal of our choice per day in the dining room of the main building. Think: college cafeteria meets Holiday Inn banquet room. With chairs for six residents per table, every time we eat we can dine with four friends. As creatures of habit, we gravitate to the same group of tables each day, never knowing who else will already be there or who will choose to join us after we sit down with our food.
Today we ate lunch (cabbage rolls, veggies, cornbread, and dessert) with a single retired nurse, a retired banker and his wife who are several years older than us, and another woman who was widowed several years ago. As I heard Rod tell stories about being on his high school swim team (mostly as the student manager, it turns out) and brag about his big brother Steve and what a great butterfly stroke he had, I saw amused looks on our new friends’ faces. I saw Rod’s eyes light up as he came alive reliving the tales. I saw looks of admiration on the faces of my new women friends, who enjoyed having a handsome man sitting beside them to eat. And I noticed how much they all enjoyed Rod’s questions about their lives and his attentive interest. On our way to check our mailbox, Rod stopped to chat with a resident in a wheelchair who was eating alone.
As we strolled back to our cottage arm in arm, I was startled by a new realization. God is helping me see Rod through the eyes of strangers. Now, I have a chance to fall in love with my handsome, caring, witty husband all over again. This new cross-pollination of lives, as we share stories with new friends, revives our energy, expands our interests, and offers new opportunities to affirm and appreciate one another.
Fully alive– together!