RIght now the whole house smells like bacon and there's a pot of edemame corn chowder with bacon crumbles on the stove. The girls are playing with thier amish dolls in the warm evening light on the window seat. Our sometimes-sixteen-year-old (a neighbor who lives with us part time) is happily doing who know's what on my space (yikes). Any minute now my husband, Paul, will walk through the door, quickly followed by 8-12 good friends who meet here every week for soup, beer, conversation and maybe--just maybe--a little spiritual growth.

I love Thursdays.

We've been doing this soup/blended family/soulcare community  thing at our house for three years now. It gives me joy and anxiety, fullfillment and yearnings. My favorite thing about it is that it's all inclusive -- housemates, children, adult, atheists, and all manner of Christians or Christian hybrids (Zen Buddihst/Christian, Jesus-y pagans, people who follow Bono, etc.)

If you'd like to hear more about our Thursday night community, which we call Monkfish Abbey, you're welcome to visit our virtual living roomhere.

Hmmm. Thursday nights are good.