At Easter time, our family remembers Jesus' last days on earth: his final entrance into Jerusalem to the sounds of praise and palm branches; his last moments of prayer in the garden; his final steps as he walked like a lamb to a slaughter to endure mock trials, flogging, crucifixion, and death.
We also take the time to remember the last supper he ate in the upper room with his disciples.
"Last" events are precious, are what we sometimes remember the most. But firsts can be just as memorable--a first kiss, first child, or first home.
So, tonight, my family did something a bit different--we had a first supper.
On the front lawn of our soon-to-be new home, my husband built a fire as I fed hungry little ones some pureed veges on the front porch.Rough saw horses and a warped sheet of plywood served as our table.Stripped bamboo stalks speared hot dogs and marshmallows for roasting.
And an empty cardboard box made a kids' table with cement blocks for chairs.Most people probably wouldn't consider this the way to have a "first supper" in a new home. They'd probably wait until the house was finished before having a celebration (or at least until it had electricity and working plumbing) .
But there's a reason for gathering together now. My brother and his wife leave Wednesday to start their new life in Washington D.C. with the Navy Chaplaincy. That means they won't be here when the walls are hung, the paint is dry, the boxes of dishes are unpacked, and the beds are made so we can sleep under the roof of our first home.
Tonight, in a house where the interior walls are still see-through; where the stairs are still formed of mere roughly cut wood with exposed nail heads; where the floor is still a plain gray cement slab...
At this house, we blessed a first supper and broke bread together with our loved ones.