I remember going to my grandparent’s home for dinner. They had a table in the kitchen where they ate when it was just the two of them, but when our family came, sometimes at the same time as some of our cousins, we ate in the dining room. There was a big table there and grandma always made sure there was plenty of food. Sometimes at dinner, Grandpa would get to telling stories. He’d tell us about what it was like farming with horses, or about the time the tornado moved the barn several inches from its foundation and the barn didn’t collapse. Their first clue that there was a problem was that they noticed a chicken with its foot caught under the edge of the barn. I can’t remember all of the story, but I can remember grandpa telling the story. I can remember the sound of his laughter. He wasn’t a loud man, and we had a big family with a lot of children and we made a lot of noise. Often grandpa just sat in his chair and watched all that was going on around him. Sometimes, however, he would have a story to tell.

The memory of dinner at grandma and grandpa’s house came to me yesterday when our grandchildren were at our house for dinner. It was a Sunday, so our morning was busy with our church responsibilities, so dinner was a pot roast with carrots and potatoes - a menu that often was part of Sundays in the house of my growing up. At our house we don’t have a formal dining room. The table where we eat our daily meals is the same table where we entertain family and friends. We just add a couple of leaves to the table and pull up a few more chairs.

Another difference is that when we sit at our table with our family, we often sit in different places around the table. At my grandparents’ house, Grandpa always sat at one end of the table and Grandma at the other. Here at our house, I sometimes sit on the end of the table nearest the kitchen and sometimes sit at the opposite end.

There is always plenty of activity at the dinner table. When our grandchildren are at table there might be a glass that gets tipped over and a rush for towels to clean up. Sometimes there is a conversation with the children about making healthy food choices. Last night there was a bit of instruction about eating a reasonable portion of meat and getting protein that went along with a child reaching for a third or fourth biscuit. I suggested that it was also important to save some room for pie. The apple trees are producing a lot of fruit right now and we are having apples with nearly every meal. Apple pie, however, is still a bit rare around here. It takes time to make the dish and we’re often feeling short of time. Yesterday, however, the beautiful lattice-topped pie was just waiting for us to finish our meal.

Of course, I don’t know how my grandparents felt about having their grandchildren around. My grandparents had five children. My aunts and uncles had big families, and we did too. There were a lot of grandchildren. Our number is smaller. Still, the feeling of having the family gathered around the table and watching the grandchildren share a family meal is one of the great joys of living. We begin our meals by sharing the things for which we are grateful. I probably sound repetitious because I am always so grateful for having family around and for them taking time from their busy lives to share a meal with us.

I also laugh a lot, because life with a family is fun. I hope that our grandchildren will remember my laugh.

Our two oldest grandchildren are the right ages to enjoy playing the card game Uno. Yesterday’s game was loud and raucous. Each “draw four”’ card was played with special relish and “uno” was proclaimed in loud voices so it could not be missed. The game comes with a score pad to keep track of who has won and individual round. We’ve never gotten around to keeping score. It is just as much fun to just play the cards and enjoy each round as it occurs. The cards are the same ones we used when our children were that age. I think it was a gift from my mother, who spent a lot of hours of her life playing various card games with our children. I remember a camping trip when it rained and my mother played game after game of “go fish” to entertain our daughter cooped up in a tent. I’ve never been much at playing games, but the memory of my mother reminds me that there is a lot of joy in taking time to play with grandchildren.

There are a lot of big things going on in the world: elections in Europe, power outages in China, harsh rules in Afghanistan, and lock downs in Australia. There are fires and floods and earthquakes. It has been written that our grandchildren will experience three times the number of natural disasters our generation has seen. In the midst of all of that, however, I am touched by little things like the family playing a game and a meal around the family table. Post roast and apple pie are the best kind of eating I can imagine. I’m happy to leave the fancy hotels and expensive dinners to others. Some days, I’m happy to leave behind the worries of politics and power and position and just enjoy the presence of my family. I don’t mind wiping up another spilled glass of water. I don’t mind the noise. I enjoy having a few extra dishes to wash at the end of the evening. It really isn’t that much work.

And sometimes, I think I can hear my grandpa and my father and my grandchildren laughing all at the same time.