Meals

Even though I'm ridiculous, I love taking meals to people who may need one.

This is a very new thing for me.

Loving it, I mean.

I like the drive.  I like the evening air.  I love "the moment"

I haven't delivered meals too many times in my life . . . but I can distinctly remember "the moment"of each meal delivery: walking into the house . . . greeted with smiles (well, except once) . . . a quiet, peaceful exchange of sustenance and good cheer.

I like that moment.

I don't just like that moment for myself.  I don't do it to make myself feel good or pat myself on the back.

I like that moment because it is when two worlds collide -- the world of my home and the world of your home . . . the world of my family and of your family.  We become one family for the evening.  We break bread together -- at separate tables and in separate houses -- but together nonetheless.

When I climb back into my car and walk inside my house, the smell of simmering soup and freshly baked cookies still lingers.

                                   And we are connected.


It is a gift
       to use my hands
                 and make a meal
                                    as a prayer for someone else.

I hope I never stop.