Food is Love

I’m probably going to have to make supper again tonight.

It doesn’t seem right. I mean, I just made supper yesterday. And the day before that, and the day before that. As of today I’ve been married 8,819 days. Let’s say I made supper 80% of those days; that means I’ve put food in front of my loved ones roughly 7,055 times. Do I really have to do it again??

I should clarify here. My reluctance isn’t because I don’t like cooking. The part that drives me bonkers is the decision-making. It just wears me right out. Every night I need to CHOOSE what we should eat. Every. Stinkin’. Night.

I know some women who are organized and efficient and make a meal plan for a week, maybe even two weeks. They know what’s in their pantry, rotate food in the fridge to make sure nothing sits too long, and make sure every meal not only offers appropriate representation of each of the food groups but is also color-coordinated.

I envy that level of kitchen organization. When I try to imitate it, though, it all falls apart and I’m once again staring into the fridge at 6:00 p.m. wondering what in the world I’m going to feed my poor hungry offspring. Nope, making supper is not my favorite thing to do.

You know what I’m going to do tonight, though? I’m going to make supper for my family. And not just because I don’t want them to starve. (My daughter, on a day when I was lamenting my weak parenting skills: “Mom, really. Being a mother means making sure your children don’t die. You’re fine.”)

I’m going to make them supper because giving them food…and agonizing once again about that doggone decision of what to make…is telling my family that I love them.

There’s a powerful connection between food and love. From the instant of our birth, and even before, we are flooded with the duality of food as a source of both nourishment and comfort.

All along our lifespans we nurture this connection. A casserole for a new parent. Cookies to thank the kind neighbor. A from-scratch cake with peanut butter-chocolate frosting to make a birthday boy feel cherished. A pot of soup because there aren’t words to make things better. Food is love.

My meals are weird. They’re usually edible, but Rachael Ray I am not. I try not to cook for other people because, well, it’s embarrassing. (“Mom, what IS this?” “It’s food. Eat it.”) But when I hand my husband and kids their plates of whatever I’ve thrown together, I hope they know that it’s not just food.

It’s love.

--------

Taste and see that the Lord is good. I am the Bread of Life; he who comes to Me shall not hunger. Whether you eat or drink do all to the glory of God. The feeding of the 5,000. Manna in the wilderness. The fruit of the Spirit.

The Bible is full of food. Throughout the Old and New Testaments there are hundreds of references to eating, cooking, provision, meals… The book that we hold as our tangible written connection to God Himself is loaded with down-to-earth recognition of our very basic, very human need to eat.

There’s something sweet about God taking care of His people by feeding them. Feeding their souls, yes. But also filling their stomachs. Taking care of their most rudimentary needs. I like that scripture is full of pictures of a tender Parent providing for His children, showing them on a simple, even-humans-can-understand level that He is love.

I’m filled by loving gifts from my Heavenly Father each day. Chips & salsa and Swiss cheese and warm chocolate chip cookies, absolutely, mmmm. But fed in my other parts, too. Fed by the knowledge of the Lamb that was sacrificed so I can be a forgiven child. Nourished by the Word that I can ingest and savor. Filled by being loved when I’m at my most unlovable.

Shortly before He ended His time on earth, Jesus turned to His dear friend Peter. “Feed My sheep.” Three times He repeated His command, begging His friend to carry on His mission. You can almost hear the catch in His throat, the deep yearning in His voice as He pleaded: “Feed My sheep.”

He wasn’t talking about the fluffy lambs in the neighbor’s field, you know. He was talking about us. We’re the fed.

And…we’re the sheep-feeders.

There are so many around us who need comfort. Who need nourishment of the body and of the soul. There are so many opportunities each day for kindness, for reaching into each other’s lives with giving hands and loving hearts.

Food is love. We’re so loved…we’re so well-fed…mightn’t we have some extra to spread around? Mightn’t we warm the hearts of people around us, perhaps by the simple, loving gift of a little bit of food?

Take the casserole. Sign up for the meal train. Bake the cookies. Fetch the slice of cheesecake. Find something for dinner. It’s all love.

Eat up. Enjoy the cookies. And then go feed His sheep.

First published in The Alpena News on October 13, 2018.