Embracing Life
Communion
My mother taught me the importance of communion even though we never went to church together. She died 21 years ago on Thanksgiving, which was her favorite day of the year. As we approach the upcoming holiday season, I vividly recall how she demonstrated her version of breaking bread. My goal has always been to pass along that same vitally important value to my children.
One meaning of Communion, as defined in the Merriam-Webster online dictionary, is “a Christian sacrament in which consecrated bread and wine are consumed as memorials of Christ's death.”
I honor the veritable value of its religious connotation and celebrate the above-described ceremony. However, I also identify with alternative Merriam-Webster’s definitions, which parallel my mother’s unspoken meaning, “an act or instance of sharing” or “intimate fellowship or rapport.”
As a child, my family rarely communicated. We did not expose fears, discuss problems or ask for assistance. Challenges remained concealed, and we rarely argued. It was easier to keep secrets and pretend that everything was perfect. My parents did not know how to teach the importance of sharing information, but they were proficient in modeling communion. It has taken me a lifetime to understand the difference and appreciate their hidden gifts.
Thanksgiving meant inviting family, friends and neighbors to share food, fun and fellowship. All budget barriers were broken, feuds forgotten and barbed fences smoothed. Mother prepared a huge turkey, guests brought miscellaneous side dishes, and a potluck feast prevailed. The day seemed more like the renewal of life, i.e. a fresh start, than did the beginning of the New Year. It was an unexplained event of communion. Despite individual failures or successes, regardless of personal weaknesses or strengths, everyone was equally welcomed and unconditionally loved.
When it came to breaking bread, the scenario was the same all year. If dinner was prepared, there was always enough for one more. Our meals were not elaborate, but Mom knew how to add more potatoes to the stew or stretch a simple meal with biscuits and gravy. Mom’s ability to provide satisfying meals, regardless of her financial circumstances, was without any doubt her exceptional talent. Thus, it easy to understand why Thanksgiving was her special celebration of communion.
The holiday season can be challenging. Most of us cannot live up to the ideal American Hollywood image. We feel guilty if we do not exchange expensive gifts; if we do not adorn our yard with twinkling lights to tantalize the neighborhood; or if we do not accept every invitation to holiday parties.
Last year my children suggested that we stop exchanging gifts at Christmas. Instead, we gathered family and friends to participate in a drawing. Each person selected one name from a hat. Purchasing a nominally priced personalized present for one individual was all that was required. We voted to focus on the special season without unnecessary stress.
Ironically, I had the most difficult time of anyone involved in forfeiting the opportunity to provide my loved ones with tokens. Struggling not to succumb to past artificial pressures, I restrained. The rewards were remarkable. I substituted the time normally spent in lines at the mall with a visit to my sister who lives in New York. I replaced paying credit card bills in January with a donation to my church. I listened to my children and remembered what my mother taught me about communion.
Perhaps I am a slow student. Fortunately, however, the universe provided me with the same lesson twice in my lifetime. Jon Walker writes in the September 5, 2008 edition of The Purpose Driven Life Daily Devotional, “Communion … is about sharing life. It’s about knowing and being known, caring and being cared for on a deep and personal basis.”
My mother intuitively knew God’s wishes. Moreover, even though my children never communicated with my mother, they embraced her definition of communion.
Donna Bonnell is a writer in Newberry. She may be contacted at Donna@towerpublications.
