Community - Sharing the #6 Combination Plate 12-8-9

Highway 81, Anderson

When one grows up in an alcoholic family there are not many happy memories. Siblings become strangers to each other in their own struggles to survive. Addictions steal the gift of emotional presence and life; instead leaving behind the acrid residue of burnt dreams. One’s energies and aspirations are often reduced to merely making it into the next moment. The experience of safe family, of childhood, becomes little more than a wispy concept that other people always seem to know more about.

So it was that rare journeys to Acapulco, a nearby 1-star Mexican eatery, were to me as treasured and relished as my recent epic grand prize journey around the world. The combination plate and a can of orange soda served with a glass of ice was the best of many worlds. For a few minutes life seemed normal, even safe. Raymond’s enchiladas, rice, refried beans, and chips offered me sustenance that far exceeded even that which I received from canapés and caviar at 39,000 feet.

So it is that when a dear friend calls me up on the cell phone and tells me he is in route to the nearby 1-star Mexican place to get the #6 combination plate, I generally drop what I am doing and show up. For a few minutes life seems normal, even safe. We both have survived the horrors and carnage of alcoholic addiction. Life has gone forward for us. We have learned that when we let God do the choosing, we get His best. We have actually now ordered the beef fajitas during the dinner hour, feeling prosperous enough in our recovery to occasionally pay evening prices for a fine meal consisting of three sizzling plates of culinary wonders. Last week it was my turn to buy. The tab set me back about $12. Prosperity seems to be at hand.

Another fine friend has been through severe challenges of his own. As a minister, perhaps the greatest trauma he could experience is that of enduring a politically motivated no-confidence vote and being thrown out of his own pulpit. So it was. A few months ago he was thrown out. His unwavering faith tells him to fly by the instruments and trust God knows how to do the choosing, despite the ill-intent of those who no longer care for him.

I was invited by this impeccable reverend and his wife to join them for the combination dinner at the Grand China restaurant after attending a Christmas program at his new church home. I hesitated a bit, figuring I had a lot of things to be working on. I smartened up very fast, remembering there was a lot more at stake here than a very good meal. I allowed myself to be driven to the restaurant at the other end of town where I proceeded to see up close that the experience of safe family, of childhood, becomes a profoundly empowering holographic reality that some other people seem to know a lot about. This minister and his faithful wife have spent decades showing their fine grown children that when we let God do the choosing we get His best. They have just shown me the same thing. This preacher is probably the richest man on earth. For a few minutes life seems normal, even safe.

A couple of weeks ago when clumps of cars accreted at houses across the land for the ultimate culinary spectacle of the year and millions of turkeys made the ultimate sacrifice, I found myself admitted into the interior of another family, a community of people who know about empowering their kids with good nutrition and emotional presence. A grand feast of bronzed turkey with all the accoutrements was laid out. Chess pie, pecan pie, apple pie, pumpkin pie. They were all there, freshly made a few hours earlier. The real prize was hidden with the Coke, Seven Up and Mountain Dew. A bottle of orange soda was present. I remembered. For a few minutes life seemed normal, even safe.

Following dinner I was admitted into the other room where we all packed in to watch a film, one of my choosing actually. I had arrived. I departed with boxes of culinary wonders. Life seems normal, even safe.

It is a very long ways from the alcoholic jungles of Los Angeles to a bucolic country place in South Carolina, with intermediate stops at the Mexican place on Highway 81 and the Grand China at the north end of town. There has been no shortage of turbulence and wind shear on this journey that has traversed more than four decades, yet I am promised a safe landing in the end. At times the ride has even been smooth and gentle; my journey kept on track by a montage of benevolent individuals who have invited me to share their tables countless times.

It is no accident that the writings comprising the New Testament are full of images and metaphors relating to fine dining. The central sacrament of the church is the Eucharist or Communion. In the Protestant West we often refer to it as the Lord’s Supper. The last thing Jesus did before making his journey from here back to His Father’s house via Calvary was to have a dinner party; a dinner party that would create the most powerful image of intimacy our world has ever known. He actually invited us to partake of his bread and cup, to visualize ourselves as becoming one with him. “That you may be in Me and Me in you.” He paid the ultimate price so we could all pull up to his table in fellowship with Him and each other.

It is a long journey from Earth to Heaven. If you are offered a chance to have fellowship and a good meal with a friend, make time for it. Even better, get on the phone and invite someone to go to a 1-star Mexican eatery and get a combination plate and glass of orange soda. If you are feeling especially generous, order the beef fajita plate. You will be a 5-star winner. You just might make life seem normal and safe for someone, especially if you have invited them to the Father’s house after dinner.

“Be sure to welcome strangers into your home. By doing this, some people have welcomed angels as guests, without even knowing it.”