This is my chapter from the Love Everyday eBook, which is on tour RIGHT NOW! Last week we heard from Maureen Shaw at Feeling Flirty, where we learned about sharing responsibility. After reading my chapter, you should go and download this fantastic resource, written by 27 different authors, about making the most of your marriage every day.  Enjoy!

Dinner is what prevented me from turning a single funeral into a double funeral.

It started when I changed my mind and decided we ought to attend my uncle’s burial. The funeral service had just ended and we were in our car with the intention of going home.

“I think it would mean a lot to my dad if we went to the burial,” I told my husband. Dad had looked pretty broken up in there.

“No way,” my husband replied.

I couldn’t completely blame him. The temperature outside was well below freezing, a foot of snow had already piled up on the ground and the snowflakes were still coming down. And we didn’t know the man. My uncle had spent the last eleven years in prison. To say we weren’t close to him would be an understatement.  Plus, my husband pointed out, my dad had nine other siblings left whose burials we could attend. “I don’t think I should have to attend the burial of someone I wasn’t close to,” he argued.

“It’s not for my uncle, but for my dad,” I insisted. “We go to funerals for the sake of the bereaved.”

“I’m not going,” he said.

To say that I was angry would be another understatement.  I was furious.

We continued to fight as all the other vehicles in the parking lot began to leave in the procession. I told him he was selfish and had no sense of familial duty. He told me I was being unreasonable and wasting his time. Finally, as the lot emptied, we pulled out behind the caravan of cars on their way to the cemetery. We yelled back and forth the whole way there. He didn’t understand! No, I didn’t understand! Finally, we arrived, incensed. We parked. We shivered violently as we watched my uncle’s nine siblings shovel scoops of dirt onto his lowered coffin.  We got back into our car and left for home.

Back at home, we were still angry, but it was dinner time. I decided to slice a couple of sweet potatoes and put them in the oven with a smoked sausage. I tossed together some salad greens with a homemade vinaigrette and some toasted pine nuts. When he smelled the cooking food he came in and set the table in silence. Half an hour later we sat down at the table with dinner and a cold Rickard’s Red between us to share. We didn’t say another word about the funeral.

Finally, he sighed. “It’s hard to stay mad when you have so much good food in you,” he said.

I think my husband spoke a great truth. I wasn’t mad anymore, either. Food is powerful. Sharing a meal unites. Food is more than a source of nourishment: it is the means of fellowship.

I think there’s a reason every culture on the planet celebrates important events with feasting. There’s a reason Christians call the sharing of bread and wine “communion.” The sharing of food is special – some would even say it’s sacred.

When two or more people eat together, they admit that they are both human and need to sustain their bodies with food. They must lay down their defenses and admit their shared vulnerability. They agree to share the sensual experience of eating food and the bodily act of digestion.

My husband and I didn’t resolve our argument that night, but we stopped being angry at each other over dinner. I resolved not to arrange for a second funeral. Tonight.

So this is my advice to you: share meals with the people you love. Do it every day. Don’t go your separate ways when it’s time to fill your stomachs. Sit across from one another and savor the meal. As my husband pointed out, it’s hard to stay mad when you have good food in you.

Next week the tour continues at The Generous Husband, where you can learn about making time for each other.