Ministry of Meals

Today as I was stacking cookbooks on my counter, I started thinking about my grandma. It wasn't because of the cookbooks, it was because of the reason I had them out in the first place. Meals.

My grandma had a shut-in neighbor who drove her bonkers. This neighbor became such a pest, that Grandma clued us in to a secret code . . . if we wanted to call and speak to her (this was before answering machines and caller i.d.) we had to dial, let the phone ring twice, hang up, then call back. That break in the ring cycle was Grandma's clue that it was family--and not her persistent neighbor--calling 🤣 

Their whole relationship was a mystery to me. They fought over silly things. We weren't allowed to go over to Helen's (for that was the neighbor's name). Her house wasn't safe (holes in the floor), she had some skin condition that was contagious; I'm sure there were other issues our parents wouldn't tell us about, her husband had drowned in a boating "accident" on the river . . . strange half details that kids don't fully understand. But the basic formula was Grandma + Helen = trouble.

Except.

Except when our family would gather for meals. Grandma would pack us all in her tiny house for holidays, birthdays, celebrations, reunions until the house was near bursting. The amount of food that she served was mind boggling, and the number of people to whom she served it equal to the task. But we grandkids knew, that before the best of the dishes were scooped and dispersed on plates, Grandma would get out the containers she kept especially for Helen. She'd fill them to capacity, heap on the gravy, side dishes, dessert, packed and covered and put into the hands of we eager-to-deliver grandkids.

"Do NOT go in the house," our parents warned. "Just leave it on the porch and knock on the door; she'll come get it. It . . . takes her awhile to get up." But sometimes Helen knew that special meal was coming, and she would manage the huge bulk of herself to greet us at the door with a mostly toothless smile and an environmental smell I'll never forget.

I don't know what Grandma's motivation was in this meal provision--whether it was "heaping burning coals" on her enemy's head or maybe a sense of guilt for having an abundance of family when Helen was all alone; it could have been a usually hidden concern for an aging widow of ill health or some sense of duty instilled in her by her upbringing. But I have to think that at the deepest level, there was simply a kindness inspired by God wrapped up in the gift of food.

When the bills get big, my first thought is, "Cut the food budget." It's our biggest expense. Our last shopping trips were restock missions and huge, so for the coming paycheck--milk and bread. Toilet paper if we need it :) That was MY plan.

But then God said, "Hey, there's a new (and very young) family who need to see some of my love--take them a meal. You'll get to hold the baby." Okay, done. Then next day: "Hey, you know how the neighbors want to get together to pray for the neighborhood . . . make them lunch." (I knew they didn't do gluten, but I didn't know they were avoiding pork--would you believe the *bacon bits* I had to make a special trip to the store for ended up being completely made of soy, and the Pork and Beans I needed for my recipe I strained and not a single bit of pork was included; how 'bout that?) God made sure that meal would work, so we could spend that important time together.

Then I see yesterday on facebook that a neighborhood couple who welcomed a baby last week spent the weekend in NICU fighting jaundice in their baby boy. 

"Hey, can I bring you a meal?" 

"That would be great! We've been eating so much fast food lately." Okay God, and gluten free again? Not exactly the cheapest ingredients, but I just happen to have a few things left over from my gluten free start of the year. 

Oh, and that upcoming shopping trip that is going to be on the cheap side? The men of the neighborhood, led by Buck, have decided to throw a block bbq and 4th of July fireworks party this weekend--providing enough of something to feed the 30 people in the neighborhood . . . at the end of each driveway. It is a beautiful idea, and I can hardly wait for it to happen! I love that Buck dreamed it up, texted all the guys, figured out a date that worked for almost everyone, and all because he wants to draw the neighbors together for food and fellowship.

Isn't it amazing when I start worrying and focusing on cutting back that God says, "Nope, that's actually where I need you to give." 

So, the ministry of meals is alive and well in our world, and I pray that it is an abundant blessing to those who receive our family's efforts to spread some love and calories ❤