I came to a startling realization this past weekend, a realization that made me want to take a trip back in time to my Mississippi childhood.
Back then, times were slower, and the world was not lurking at our fingertips in the form of social media. Back then, family time was seamlessly woven into our lives. Two or three times a day, I sat around the table and ate a meal with my mom, my dad, my sister, and our grandfather, who lived with us at the time.
But our homemade and often homegrown foods are not what I remember most about those meals. What I do remember were the times of conversation, times when my sister and I simply listened – rather than participated. As my father often said, children were made to be seen and not heard. That sentiment seems harsh now, but the truth is, we were as much a part of those conversations as the three adults sitting around the table.
We listened; we laughed; we asked questions; and we learned a very important lesson that most modern children have not acquired yet. We learned how to truly visit with those we love. Yep, we learned how to sit a spell.
That’s what everyone called it back then. And that’s what every neighborly Mississippian asked (both invited and unexpected) guests to do – simply come on in and sit a spell.
It was an understood part of Mississippi hospitality back then to insist that all visitors be treated like family.
Every host offered every guest a chance to pull up a chair, sit a spell, and join in on the simple, intimate conversation. In fact, those times of sitting down, listening, visiting, and conversing with neighbors were probably when and where Mississippi first earned the title of The Hospitality State.
If I stop and think about it for even a few moments, I can still hear those conversations.
The laughter over tall tales of daily adventures echo through my soul, as do the tears shared over the heartaches and losses of others in the community. Those times of sitting and listening taught me how to be a better wife, a better mother, a better teacher, and a better neighbor than I would’ve been without sitting a spell and listening.
Those memories came rushing back when we shut the front door after a weekly visit from our precious neighbors. It was a profound realization that what takes place in our home every Sunday night is truly the most precious time of our week.
See, each Sunday night, my precious neighbor brings us a full meal – usually the best meal of our week. It’s a plate of homemade goodness, consisting of meat, three or four sides, bread, and a delicious dessert. This weekly meal delivery started as a welcome to the neighborhood, but it has become an ongoing ministry from our neighbor. Unless she is out of town, she insists on feeding us a delicious meal each Sunday night.
But honestly, the meal is just half of the Sunday night treat. The other part of her love for us is the fact that she brings family members with her to deliver the meal. Sometimes, it’s just her, her husband, and their grandchild. Other times, she brings one or more of her children, their spouses, and maybe even her mother or grandmother. It’s always a treat, and it’s always a surprise. We never really know who will be there bearing that delicious homecooked meal when we open the door.
After my neighbor brings in the food, puts it on our table, and explains what’s for dinner, the next part is the best part. We do exactly what Mississippi neighbors have done for generations and generations: We sit a spell.
As we relax, we visit and catch up on all the news of the neighborhood, the good and the tragic. We tell crazy stories of our week. We make plans for what we want to accomplish in our little spot of the world. We share concerns and worries. We reminisce about people and places from the past. We sometimes cry together, and usually, we find a moment to pray together as neighbors.
There’s also a precious little redheaded girl, our neighbor’s granddaughter, who plays right under our feet as we sit a spell. She is truly the light on this hillside neighborhood. She gives us all love – and hope for today and tomorrow. She truly is like a breath of fresh air, a refreshing breeze that blows in and blows out of our home each Sunday night – reminding us that the present moment is just as important as any moment in the week to come.
So, when I finally shut the door this past Sunday night, after we bid our neighbors and our precious girl goodbye, I thought about all the times that my grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and neighbors came to visit us as children. I thought about those countless family meals and all those everyday moments I shared with the people in my past – the moments that made me exactly who I am today.
I realized that the greatest gift those adults ever gave me was when they took the time to sit a spell and visit. And for that, I am so very thankful.
