01 February 2017
Enjoy breakfast. All you need to make is the coffee,"
read the note on top of the package delivered to our door early that first morning home. We were so tired that morning. We had driven a lot of miles. We had cried a lot of tears. We didn't even know the hard that was yet to be before us. But our friends loved us and served us with breakfast delivered to right to our kitchen counter. They fed us, body and soul.
My girls were left home alone for a week while my husband and I traveled north for his mom's funeral. I call to check on them.
"How are you doing?" I ask.
"Miss Erica brought over a lot for us to eat," my daughter answered. "Food must be her love language."
My heart swelled, such kindness for our friend to remember and serve my family in my absence.
Of course, I remember seasons of meals when I had babies, or a surgery, and even just a surprise gift from a friend when it was a hard day. I've been served by angels, I am sure.
Last night I was talking to a friend, praying over struggles and hard. And she doesn't fell well, besides. There is not much of anything I can do to make things better. But, I can feed her and her family. "I'll make you dinner tomorrow," I told her.
It's not such a hard thing really, for the person making it. All I did was add some extra to what I was already making for my own family. It's no accident that they are called Jiffy Muffins! But for the recipient, it's such a tangible sign of love, to be fed, to be served in this way. I can hear Mother Teresa gently telling us, "Not all of us can do great things. But we can do small things with great love." Perhaps she wasn't thinking a pot of chili and corn muffins delivered in a brown paper sack. I'm hoping they say "I love you," too.