A meal with my mother has always been an event.
Always at a table, properly set - no cartons or store packaging in sight (with the possible exception of ketchup) - on a beautiful tablecloth. I grew up assuming that was how dinner was served everywhere.
Years of dinners with my own family were much the same. It wasn't until I had an empty nest that I started to relax the "rules"... an occasional meal in front of the TV didn't seem so distasteful.
This past week, we spent a few days with my mother. Every morning we started the day at a breakfast table that was beautiful. It really didn't matter what was in the bowls, or on the plates, with flowers on the table and colorful place settings, it was a treat to arrive in the dining room.
I think I'll quit being lazy. Gracious living is worth the effort.
But ye, brethren, be not weary in well doing. II Thessalonians 3:13