Savor

Over the weekend, I attended a birthday celebration for a long-time friend. Eight of us gathered around a table in a secret room at a local restaurant. The ambiance was dark and moody. One wall of the room was the wine cellar, while the other walls were wrapped in wood. Large, gold, leafy chandeliers lit the space, along with a few candles. The table was draped with white linens and had an earthy green runner down the center. The chairs hugged you and invited you to settle in and stay a while.

We were served a five-course meal, each course specially prepared for this dinner. With each new dish, the sous chefs would come to the table and tell us about the food. They would explain the ingredients used, the way the food was cooked, and how the flavors would complement each other. We found ourselves surprised by the ingredients listed, but as soon as we tasted the first course, we trusted that the chefs knew what they were doing, and we were just along for the ride.

We lingered at this table together for hours. The entire experience invited us to slow down. The courses were portioned so as not to overwhelm us, and they came out slowly so we could enjoy them. It was unhurried, and we savored every moment.

Over the past few weeks, the word savor has kept popping up. I was talking with a friend about it, and she asked me what it means to me to savor something. I immediately said it makes me think of sitting around a table with friends, enjoying a slow meal together, and talking about everything and nothing until it is time to go home.

When I think of savoring something, I think of staying present in the moment just a little longer. Enjoying what is happening around me. Not rushing on to the next thing. Moving slowly enough not to miss the melody that is playing.

To me, it is the unhurried rhythm of remaining present to my life.

There are so many things to savor. Sitting by the ocean and listening to the waves. Lingering outside as the sun sets and illuminates the sky. Pockets of quiet woven into the day. The gentle breeze that rustles your hair when fall finally arrives. The crunch of leaves under your feet. Reading a good book. Slowly drinking a cup of cocoa. A long conversation with friends. Holding hands with someone you love. The smell of a new baby. The friend who isn’t alarmed by your grief. Handwritten notes arriving in the mail. The warmth of a sunbeam on your face. Moonlit snowball fights. And on the list goes.

I wonder, what do you savor? How is God awakening you - mind, body, and spirit to the ordinary moments of your day? What does it look like for you to stand still for just a moment longer? 

~  Melissa