In our home, family dinners are not optional—they’re sacred. Every evening, we gather at the table, and one rule always stands: screens are not invited. No phones, no tablets, no distractions. Just us.
What happens at that table is more than sharing food—we share life. We talk, we laugh, we plan. We celebrate the little victories of the day, and we gently unpack the struggles too. We hear about friendships, about challenges at school, about joys that lit up the day. And it’s not just the kids talking. They’re encouraged to ask about our day too. Because when everyone has a voice, everyone feels seen.
Of course, these conversations go beyond storytelling. They’re practice sessions for life. Around our dinner table, we’re teaching the art of polite conversation—how to look someone in the eye, how to listen with ears and eyes, how to ask thoughtful questions, and how to respond with more than a single word. (In fact, Anderson had been in a habit of giving us one-word answers, so I introduced a lighthearted rule: “Five-word minimum, please!” It’s amazing how that little shift has stretched his vocabulary and made him think more carefully about what he wants to say.)
And just as important as talking, we learn to listen. Patience, kindness, and curiosity bloom in those moments when it’s not your turn to speak.
But the greatest treasure of all? The bond. These dinners weave us tighter as a family. They remind us that while the world outside is loud, fast, and often distracting, this table is our anchor. Here, we belong. Here, we are heard. Here, we grow together.
Family dinners are never just about food. They’re about feeding hearts, shaping character, and building a foundation of connection that lasts long after the plates are cleared.
Raising Light 