This Week at the Table
A new rhythm begins ... one meal, one story, one Sunday at a time.
Be my guest, there’s a seat saved just for you…
This is the first issue of my new format for This Week at the Table on Meal & Grace, and I couldn’t be more excited you’re here. If we were sitting across from each other, I’d slide a plate your way, top off your coffee, and tell you that this newsletter has been simmering on the back burner for a long time.
I’m launching it with something big and a little bit wild: the Jeanie Jo & Joanna Project, a year-and-a-half journey to cook my way through Magnolia Table, Volumes 1, 2, and 3. That’s 457 recipes in 78 weeks. Starting July 4, I’ll be stirring, baking, tasting, and feeding the people I love while holding space for grace, grief, and leftover casseroles.
(Send prayers. And butter.)
This week is Independence Day, which feels like the perfect moment to begin. A fresh start. A table full of good food. And maybe a little reminder that gathering is still something worth celebrating.
Every Sunday, you’ll find a letter like this in your inbox: part meal plan, part story, part soft place to land. I believe a good table can hold just about anything: joy, chaos, burnt toast, and grace in all its quiet forms.
So welcome. I’m so glad you’re here.
This week’s table was built from what I already had, which is sometimes the best kind of creativity. Before I made a single grocery list or opened a cookbook, I opened the freezer and the pantry and started scribbling: elbow and rigatoni pasta, naan bread, tater tots, diced hashbrowns, a tube of biscuits, half a pack of bacon, some ground beef, plenty of eggs, lemons, and heavy cream. Somehow, that list turned into a week of meals that felt rich with flavor and full of grace.
The book on my nightstand right now is Celebrate Every Day by Shauna Niequist. It’s a 60-day devotional, but not in the traditional sense. There’s no checklist, no pressure to have it all figured out. Each entry is short, just a few pages, but filled with gentle reminders to pay attention, to soften, to remember that life doesn’t have to be extraordinary to be deeply good. The tone is everything I’ve always loved about Shauna’s writing. It’s warm, honest, and poetic without trying too hard. She writes like she’s sitting across the table from you, coffee in hand, reminding you to breathe. Each daily reading ends with one reflection question. Not for homework, but for heart work. For noticing. She explores themes like burnout, rebuilding, friendship, faith, loss, and grace in its quietest forms. One of the images that stuck with me is the idea of scaffolding. The kind used to hold up buildings while they’re being repaired. She invites us to think about what supports we need in seasons of transition or healing. That image has stayed with me.
I’m reading Celebrate Every Day one weekday at a time from May 26 to August 22 and sharing short reflections on the blog and Instagram. It’s not about productivity or big change. It’s about presence. A small rhythm of grace. If you're looking for something soul-soothing and deeply human, this one belongs on your nightstand too.
Since this is the very first issue, here are seven things you should know about Meal & Grace. What you’ll find here, when it shows up, and why I hope you’ll keep pulling up a chair.
1. It arrives every Sunday morning.
Think of it like a slow cup of coffee waiting in your inbox. Quiet, thoughtful, and always warm.
2. You’ll always find a recipe.
From casseroles to cookies, each one comes with a story, a tip, or a memory worth sharing.
3. We end with grace.
Each week closes with a short reflection; sometimes scripture, sometimes just a truth I’m learning. Always grounded. Always real.
4. The rotating feature keeps it fresh.
Some weeks you’ll get a peek at what I’m reading, my favorite kitchen tool, a helpful tip, or a grocery list gem.
5. We plan our meals together.
I’ll share what we’re cooking in our home for the week ahead; nothing fancy, just honest food made with love.
6. You’ll get a joy list every week.
Usually this section is filled with the little delights I’ve noticed lately. But this week? You’re it.
7. This is a table, not a stage.
I’m not here to impress you. I’m here to sit beside you. With crumbs on the counter, a heart wide open, and dinner that sometimes burns.
This week I’ve been sitting with Luke 8:39, where Jesus tells the man He just healed:
After the chaos, after the healing, after the fear; Jesus sends him back to his everyday life with a new story to tell. Not to go on a mission trip. Not to become a preacher. Just to return home and live differently. To let his life speak.
That’s what Meal & Grace is for me. It’s a way of returning home with open hands and an honest heart. It’s one way I tell what God has done in Coconut Drop Biscuits, in Dirty Rice Skillet, in the rhythms that hold me up when everything else feels uncertain. If you’ve ever wondered if your story matters, or if the change in you is visible enough, remember this: grace doesn’t need a spotlight. It just needs a life. A home. A table. Read the full reflection here: Jesus Heals Two Demon-Possessed Men
May your week be held in grace, one ordinary moment at a time.
And may your table be full of food, laughter, stories, and the kind of presence that feels like home.
gracefully yours,
Food, faith & a little chaos—where spills happen, laughter is required, and grace is always on the menu. Let’s connect — visit my bio site. Affiliate links may be included, thanks for supporting my work (and my coffee habit).
Press that little ❤️ if this post brought a smile, stirred a memory, or left you just a little bit hungry. It helps more people find Meal & Grace and it puts a little extra sparkle in my day.