When her husband’s obligations demanded he miss dinner, my friend took the opportunity to throw a ladies night Shabbat.
The potluck plan came together via text message. I took on salad, ladybug two claimed dessert, and ladybug three offered wine. “Get whatever wine you want, I plan to have beer myself,” my friend said.
Shabbat keeps my girlfriends together in many ways. We’ve been friends for years and have coined ourselves “The Ladybugs.” Over time, we’ve gotten busier and busier. I expect that will continue. But no matter what, Shabbat arrives every week. Time to stop, eat and connect.
Because we’ve known each other for so long, anything goes. Some Shabbats are froufrou, Michelin-aspiring, 4-course meals. Others, like this one, will be part standing, part sitting on the couch, and part plopped on the floor, surrounded by my friend’s kids and their toys.
Perfection isn’t the point. Perfection misses the point. Shabbat is for connecting over a table or over a beer. It gives us a chance to stop striving for 24 hours, to look around and recognize, that even if it’s not perfect, it’s good. It’s a snapshot of now, and this now will change. It’s a reminder that whatever’s going on today should be savored and sipped slowly.
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