“What does Sunday Lunch cost each week?”

My son’s question caught me off guard. I’d never really thought about it.

My mind slipped to money mode as I mentally scanned items on an imaginary grocery checkout line.

“About $50 to $75 a week, depending on the menu, and how many are here.”

Honestly, it doesn’t matter. It’s just money. It costs what it costs.

The big expense isn’t money. It’s energy.  A normal Sunday Lunch includes menu selection, grocery shopping, group texts to see who’s coming. 

There’s time to prep, cook and clean.  There’s lunch time itself, dirty dishes, cleaning again, taking out trash, putting up toys inside and out.

Now and then, the physical and emotional energy tank is on empty while puttering on fumes. It’s an act of the will on those days.

Regardless, Sunday Lunch is a normal thing. It’s just what we do. Besides, you can be empty in energy, but full in the heart.

It started eleven years ago.  We’ve had Sunday Lunch almost every week since. 

The menu varies, and we’ve had about every major entrée you can think of. There are heapings of sides, vegetables dishes, fruit, and of course, dessert. 

Don’t forget to stop by the refrigerator in the garage on your way in to get a bottle of water or a canned drink.

Leftovers stay on the kitchen island for an hour or so. Wander back and graze if you want to, or slip another piece of dessert when no one’s looking.

The girls love not cooking. Janet and I take care of it.  Besides, everyone needs time off, especially moms with small children.

It’s become our day to recognize birthdays. Whoever’s birthday comes during the week gets preference on the dessert, and a little present or two.

Sunday Lunch isn’t formal.  Not in the least. No one knocks, for instance. You’re home, so walk right in!

There are hugs and handshakes with hellos and goodbyes, but even that’s more of an expression of love than a formal greeting.

Just come as you are. Wear your Sunday best, or t-shirts and flip flops if you’d rather. It’s up to you.  It all works. It’s not what you wear; it’s who you are.

The house rules are simple. We want peaceful interactions, togetherness, and kindness as the mantra of communication.

Conflict and anger are like airline luggage. Check your baggage at the door, put it on the conveyor belt, and know there’s a chance you may never see it again. 

Don’t get me wrong, there’s some mild teasing that will sooner or later dart your way, but any teasing is meant as fun acceptance, not passive aggression.

You belong. You’re welcomed, wanted.  It’s safe.  Just being a part makes you feel whole!

If your picture isn’t on the family wall but someone whose picture is brought you, then you’re just as welcome as if you’re name or blood thick.

We never get everyone there, all thirty-five. That’s virtually impossible, but as my sweet wife often says, we’ll just love on the ones here.

The chaos of numbers, usually 15 to 20 of whoever can be there that week, makes it fun.  The sheer number of a large family can make it hard to have a private, one on one conversation, but if you’re really intentional, you can still do it.  

The living room gets scattered with downstairs toys.  The older children scamper around, while the little ones scoot or crawl to reach whatever suits their fancy. 

Sometimes monumental moments happen, like rolling over for the first time, first step, first swim, or first taste of green peas, only to see them spit out on the bib by a frowning face with chubby cheeks.

Just being a part makes you feel whole!

During cold or rainy weather, the older kids go upstairs for Legos construction, a Barbie playhouse, foosball, games or a movie. In the summer, they swim, charge the playground equipment, catch frogs, or kick a ball, but always perpetually playing.

Someone once told me our Sunday Lunches are a Thanksgiving dinner, fifty-two times a year.  

Maybe so.

I hope so.

We intend them to be memories, building blocks of belonging, and hope for the grandchildren.

We aspire they help cement life-long relationships between adult siblings and their spouses.

We pray they strengthen the individual family units, throughout their life, to steadily thrive in unsteady days.

One day the Sunday Lunch mantle will pass to our adult kids.

When the torch changes hands, may they too know the real joy of Sunday Lunch, where just being a part of it makes you feel whole!