I’m over 2020. (Guessing you are too.)
But it isn’t.
Still six weeks to go… give or take a socially-distant holiday or two.
Ugh.
As both Covid cases and post-election tensions surge, 2020 continues its reign of trouble/tension/terror and appears likely to tag-team with ’21.
With another round of school closures, small business losses and city/state lockdowns, Covid fatigue is giving way to…
Pandemic despondency.
At this point, just getting out of bed is a noteworthy accomplishment. (Zero judgment if you’re reading this under the covers. These are unprecedented times – which require occasional pajama days, frequent naps and Alexa streaming “soothing rainfall” nature sounds on your nightstand.)
And though most of us are battling Covid fatigue, let’s not forget that many are battling… Covid. Patients are still suffering – and succumbing – in alarming numbers.
(While healthcare workers kill themselves trying to save them.)
I look around, and nearly everyone I know is suffering somehow – physically, emotionally, relationally, spiritually. Or all of the above.
Seems we’re all pretty desperate.
Desperate for a glimmer of hope. Peace of mind, body and spirit. Some semblance of normalcy.
Desperate for some comfort and joy in this heartbreaking world.
A little tenderness.
Sweetness.
Beauty.
Desperate for a taste of the good life.
A while back, I attended a yearlong urban workshop in which participants took a variety of courses (“Poverty 101,” “Hidden Rules of Class” etc) to help us become more educated, equipped and effective in our volunteer work. I remember one class in particular when our instructor, Dr. Amy Sherman, entered the room clutching a tiny pink plastic spoon.
“Who knows what this is?”
A few hands shot up.
“A spoon!”
“What kind of spoon?”
“It’s a tasting spoon!”
“Exactly. It’s meant to give customers ‘just a taste’ of different ice cream flavors – up to 31, I imagine.” She grinned.
Dr. Sherman went on to explain that as Christ-followers and volunteers, one of our critical assignments is to share with others the “flavors” of God’s grace and goodness.
A loving spoonful, if you will.
A foretaste of heaven.
After class, Dr. Sherman gave each of us a little pink plastic spoon to keep in our pocket as a reminder of our “mission from God.” And her lesson has stuck with me ever since.
That’s why we’re here, isn’t it?
To love… because God first loved us.
To (for)give and serve and bless… because that’s what he does.
If we claim to follow him, shouldn’t we be using our gifts of mercy or helps or hospitality to bring a little heaven to this oft-hellish earth? To share spoonfuls of lovingkindness with the people around us?
When I was growing up, we said a simple “grace” before we ate. It was short and sweet (and thereby kept us kids from becoming hangry – that terrible moment when hungry goes all rogue/rage).
God is great. God is good. Let us thank Him for our food. Amen.
Yes, amen.
God is great… and good… and you need only take one bite of fresh pineapple or parmesan risotto or pralines ‘n cream to know it.
Comfort food was his idea.
Brilliant.
(And bursting with flavor.)
Penzey’s Spices, a favorite of foodies and epicures everywhere, has a lovely little slogan. Maybe you’ve seen it on a bumper sticker or dish towel someplace:
Love people. Cook them tasty food.
That’s the gospel according to Penzey’s. And it’s not too far off, really.
Look at Jesus. He cooked for the people he loved. Really. (See John 21, the chapter I like to call “Breakfast on the Beach with the Prince of Peace.”)
Jesus fed people. Physically and spiritually. And he encouraged others to do the same.
When they had finished breakfast, Jesus said to Simon Peter, “Simon, son of John, do you love me more than these?” He said to him, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” He said to him, “Feed my lambs.” He said to him a second time, “Simon, son of John, do you love me?” He said to him, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” He said to him, “Tend my sheep.”He said to him the third time, “Simon, son of John, do you love me?” Peter was grieved because he said to him the third time, “Do you love me?” and he said to him, “Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Feed my sheep. ~ John 21:15-17 (NLT)
Do you love God?
Feed people.
Big and little. Hungry and hangry. Vegans and carnivores.
Offer them the fresh fruit of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness… and self-control.
Feed them.
Body and soul.
Whether you’re preparing a meal for your family, picking up curbside… or planning to gobble a turkey sandwich while zooming with friends and family, I wish you a bountiful, blessed Thanksgiving. Yes, even in 2020.
Bon Appetit!
Wendy
P.S. Since this holiday is all about giving thanks, can we take a moment and offer a little gratitude to those bearing the heaviest burdens of Covid: our doctors, nurses, pharmacists and first responders, our therapists and teachers, our grocery store workers, truck drivers and delivery people. Let’s thank God for them… say a prayer for them… and give them thanks too.
Wendy with a Why 