A New Tradition

Praise the Lord, all you nations;

Extol him, all you peoples. (Ps. 117:1)

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When the bright blue sky behind the mountains melts into watercolors, it’s time to start thinking about dinner. We would eat at Lindsey’s place tonight. Kate and I, who live next door, gathered the ingredients—filo dough, spinach, and feta—to make Σπανακοπίτα. The three of us came together in the tiny kitchen of the campus apartment and talked about our homes and families while preparing our various dishes. Lindsey put together a salad, keeping an eye on the lima beans simmering on the stove. Kate began assembling the spinach pies, and I set the table.

“Does anyone want sweet tea with dinner?” Lindsey asked, grabbing the bottle out of the fridge.

“Yeah, I’ll take some.”

“Me too.”

She poured three glasses and I took them to the table.

Lindsey’s roommate Courtney came in, so we invited her to join us. We all took our seats, trying not to knock the dishes peeking over the edge of the small square table. I breathed in deeply, appreciating the aroma that had been building for the past hour.

Courtney reached for her fork, and then set it back down. Kate looked at the food, then down at her lap.

“I feel like we should pray,” she laughed. She had been raised Catholic, and the formality of the dinner party seemed to bring old habits to the surface.

I looked across the table to Lindsey, whose parents work for YoungLife in Nicaragua, hoping she would take the joke seriously as well. Lindsey straightened up, and nodded.

"Take it away," I said with a smile.