I come from a long line of excellent cooks. Women who have signature recipes that always seem to be the first to disappear at a church potluck. Women who know just the perfect meal to drop by for a new mother and are the first to make sure a funeral luncheon is properly presented. They make picture perfect pie crusts.
Perhaps you come from women like this too. They preach their sermons of love as they prepare a good, hearty meal for their family. They host a Sunday roast beef dinner for new members in their home. They are the first to grab an apron and wash the dishes after the potluck.
One of the women from our church recently passed away. While there were many notable things about Mrs. Mildred and the way she lived over 100 years of life, I will never forget how fondly people would speak of her homemade pies. I thought, if my legacy was summed up with a tight-knit family of believers, a church who loved and spoke fondly of me, and an infamous pie crust recipe, I would have really achieved something. I wondered if each time Mrs. Mildred rolled out her pie crust, she ever imagined it would become part of her legacy.
Hospitality is a special gift. It is the ability to make someone feel both welcome and worthy, to fill their hearts by simply filling their belly. I don’t think it’s by accident that Jesus gathers us around a table each week to remember Him or that descriptions of Heaven include a great banquet table.
My mother’s love has always been most clearly communicated through food. It is her love language. Now that mom and dad are empty nesters, she’s lost, as most of her recipes feed over 25 people. If she can’t cook for 100, she’d rather not cook at all. She has one million cookbooks and every kitchen gadget made. She would rather be in the church’s fellowship hall than just about anywhere.
I think it’s because she knows gathering around a table build community. It’s how she gets to show her people how much she loves them. A shared table is what quickly moves a friendship to what feels more like family. It’s dropping by with a casserole at the birth of a friend’s baby and then serving cake at that baby’s wedding shower. It’s how we celebrate and how we mourn. It is about making a place at the table for one another and sharing our lives.
It’s much easier to spend a Friday night on the couch with pizza and PJs. (Don’t get me wrong, we need those nights too.) However, many times, I miss the opportunity to invite people into my home, because I don’t want to clean it first. It’s easier to skip out on the church potluck to head to the restaurant because I didn’t plan and wouldn’t dream of showing up empty handed.
My last pie crust looked like I had dropped it on the floor before I served it. It wasn’t especially flaky but no one turned it away. I still have work to do. If this pandemic has shown me anything, it is that I want to invest more time at the table, making new friends and spending time with old.
I don’t think the women in my life had some amazing culinary skill that can’t be attained. They knew the people in their life needed to eat and they made the time to bring them together and feed them well. They made the time and they put forth the effort. They did it often and like most things, perfected their recipes and deepened their friendships.
In Matthew 10:42 Jesus said, “If you give even a cup of cold water to one of the least of my followers, you will surely be rewarded.”
If Jesus says a cup of cold water is a notable act of service, just think what a sour cream pound cake or chicken pot pie would do. I have personally found that even a boxed lasagna will get the job done.
Jenn
Mary Johnson
September 22, 2020“from ” for such a time as this”. Loved this article. It brought years to my eyes, and from it may I remember when I see “stuff” of others there may be a history I’m not aware of or a reason important to that person. Thanks.