Our kitchen has been in survival mode the last two weeks. After my hand surgery, I discovered there is very little you can make completely one handed (cereal is my new forte). I did not foresee the difficulty, but fortunately a few wise friends did and they were so kind to bring dinner over for a week after. I was grateful at the time, but I became even more grateful when I tried to make a simple crockpot chicken meal a day after the meals stopped and I had to call my next door neighbor over to open a can for me.
After the funeral for Grandma Snow yesterday, her ward prepared a delicious luncheon for the family and friends. They set up the tables, which included flower centerpieces. The meal included a dutch oven pork roast, funeral potatoes (first time I had them at their named occasion), lots of varieties of jello with fruits, vegetables and nuts in them, rolls, and CAKE of many varieties. They went about filling waters and replenishing the tables, with smiles and gentle words.
With these experiences, I have been thinking about the love that is included with our food. When hard things happen in our lives, often food is the first thing we bring over as a service of love. It is hard to know how to help, but somehow, food does. It lightens the burden of work, it provides better than cereal meals for our tired bodies, and the kindness nourishes the soul.