Sunday Night Dinner
It’s been almost two years since I started Sunday Night Dinner. I read several books on hospitality, a core part of my calling, and knew that I wanted to implement a regular rhythm. I had learned that the secret power of date nights was to do them consistently; the faithfulness over time makes the difference in a more connected, intimate relationship. A date every once in a while didn’t seem to support our relationship as much as regularity did. If I needed consistent, predictable times with Mike, then I knew I needed that rhythm with community as well.
I wanted it to be consistent, but also easy, sustainable, and open to anyone. I started with extended family, branching out to neighbors, and new friends. Sometimes old friends popped in, neighborhood kids, and new-to-us relationships. In the beginning, I kept it simple by having everyone bring their own meat to grill with shared sides or just bring your own take-out or a homemade meal. Not having to prepare the meal was the biggest win for me as far as sustainability. Throughout this past fall, I planned themed meals (like soup, taco, or lasagna night) which did require more preparation and organization for me, but I am committed to not over-functioning in providing food. If there isn’t enough food because people didn’t volunteer, then go grab yourself some fast-food later. My goal is to provide space to connect consistently, not to go broke or slave in my kitchen to make everyone happy.
I send out a GroupMe message on Wednesdays to remind or give the menu. On Saturdays, we tidy up the downstairs along with a quick reboot Sunday afternoons. With the weather getting warm again, we will spend most of the evenings on the back deck. We play games like Molkky (which makes a great Father’s Day gift!) and the guys play basketball or ultimate frisbee. Other than that we just eat and chat about life, sometimes with focused questions or a sharing of recent milestones. It’s about togetherness, pure and simple. A soft place to land with friends, food, and drink.
That’s the thing with hospitality. It can be simple, loose, scruffy. I use paper plates, Solo cups, and paper napkins. Fancy isn’t sustainable. A clean bathroom and cleared surfaces for food are what matters, no other deep cleaning applies. Sunday Night Dinner in its simplicity should be a gift, not a burden. When it feels burdensome, I drill down and ask why. I pivot, pause, but always progress. The fruit isn’t born after one week or one month. The communal depth and meaning grow over time. In a culture that demands fast results, we hospitably rebel. We choose to evaluate fruit only after the slow march of time has done its work. We recognize that fast growth can cultivate shallow connection, but that growing slow means growing deep, and depth is what holds us together in storms.
Two years in and I still contend that Sunday Night Dinners are one of the best decisions I have made since moving to this home. I don’t want to hoard my home or its resources. I have lived in spaces that have limited the number of people that I could host comfortably but chose to do it anyway. Now I have a larger home, and I take even greater joy in having people over. Mind you, I always, always debate canceling. It’s my nature to self-preserve. But I push past my selfishness, my discomfort, and lean into the ideal that I want even more: investing in people. In the end, it’s all that matters.
Yours for simple dinners, weekly,
Aimee