I’m not a mathematician. I know enough to explain what pi is, but that’s about it. I didn’t even make it to the end of the book The Life of Pi. As I said yesterday, Pi Day is Pi(e) Day: an excuse to make and eat pie and invite people over to eat with us.
As the day has approached, Pi(e) Day has come up in conversation more than once and we have said, “You should come” without keeping track of just how many folks we had invited. When we sat down for dinner, twenty-five of us were gathered around our dining table and every other table we could find in our house, along with most every chair. Ginger did an amazing job imagining how everyone could fit and then setting up the room—well, two rooms.
For the first course, I made beef samosas, much like those I used to buy from the street vendors in Nairobi when I was in ninth grade. Then we had two small tarts: one with asparagus and cheese and the other with apple, gruyere, and roasted beets. The third course was a tamal pie served in a small mason jar. For dessert we had three choices: key lime pie; dark chocolate, salted caramel, and Oreo pie; and avocado pie with an Oreo and Frito crust. We ate and talked and laughed and then sat at the table and kept laughing and talking long after the food was gone.
One of the words offered for my Lenten Lexicon is sacred space. Okay—two words. That’s the way the house felt tonight. A thin place. A connected place. A birthing place for hope and memories. A fortress of friendship.
I am filled up with gratitude.