Tea Parties and Feast Days

This post is part of an ongoing series called Living Liturgy where I share rhythms and patterns of the Eucharistic life as they emerge my home.

Last December I was filling out a packet called 31 Questions for the New Year. My oldest daughter sat down with me and wanted to answer some questions too. I paired the packet down to three questions and wrote one question on each page of her journal. She enjoyed reflecting on 2019 but asked me for help on the last question: What is the single thing you can do to increase your enjoyment of God next year?

She was unsure of her options. So, I pulled out The Spirit of the Disciplines by Dallas Willard. While most of this book would go over her head, there is one page in chapter nine with a very helpful table of common disciplines.

The chapter does a wonderful job expounding on each discipline and would be a great tool in your home library. With my daughter, I read through these lists, briefly defined disciplines she asked about, and then asked what stood out to her. We talked about how the Holy Spirit can use curiosity or excitement to pull us into new growth. It was not a surprise to me that my tenderhearted, social butterfly felt a pull to the discipline of celebration.

After summarizing Willard's section on celebration, I left the planning to her. She decided that every Wednesday after school she would set up a tea party in her room to spend thirty quiet minutes with God. It was challenging to keep her siblings away, so we ended up having three simultaneous tea parties with God on a weekly basis. My oldest kept her times quiet and occasionally surprised me with poems or songs she had written during her time with God. My 6-year old daughter danced to worship music in her room. Many snacks and Bible stories were consumed by my 4-year old son before he fought imaginary soldiers and giants in the living room. The baby and I used the quiet to sit together with a hot cup of tea and my Bible.

These midweek celebrations became contagious to the point that my husband and I decided to begin celebrating feast days as a family. The first one we celebrated was the Feast of the Transfiguration on August 6. With our fancier-than-normal-dinner, we had a dramatic retelling of the story of the Transfiguration, a short service pulled from the Book of Common Prayer, and a game of flashlight tag where the person who was “it” had to yell, “Let the light of Jesus shine!” each time they tagged someone.

These feast days became something set apart in our otherwise mundane and isolated weeks. The stories of the faithful have been fascinating for everyone at the dinner table. My son loved the story of Saint Olaf, the viking king, and my girls recently enjoyed learning about Saint Hilda of Whitby who was known for her wisdom, servant-heart, and gift of encouragement.

I had no idea that a discussion with my seven-year old in December of 2019 would have such a significant impact on my entire family. 2020 ended up being a year where we desperately needed to find things to celebrate, to recalibrate our vision to see the God who remains good, faithful, and sure. The practice of feasting came before the ability to see the good it did for my family and for myself. That good was gratitude and enjoyment of one another in the presence of our Father.

The practice of feasting came before the ability to see the good it did for my family and for myself. That good was gratitude and enjoyment of one another in the presence of our Father.

There are so many quotes from Willard’s summary of the practice of celebration, but this one seems most poignant now.

“But this world is radically unsuited to the heart of the human person, and the suffering and terror of life will not be removed no matter how ‘spiritual’ we become. It is because of this that a healthy faith before God cannot be built and maintained, without heartfelt celebration of his greatness and goodness to us in the midst of our suffering and terror. ‘There is a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance.’ (Ecclesiastes 3:4) It is the act and discipline of faith to seize the season and embrace it for what it is, including the season of enjoyment.” (The Spirit of the Disciplines, page 180)

You do not have to wait until the new year to think about how you can increase your enjoyment of God. Did one of the disciplines jump out to you? What could be an enjoyable practice to share with your family? Will you seize this season for what God intends for you?