When a meal is more than just a meal
thoughts on food as ministry, from pb & j's to chicken alfredo
An answered prayer
After a long morning of running errands with the kids, I parked my van outside of Kwik Trip and fought back tears. The baby needed to nurse and take a nap, and I was also hungry and exhausted. As for the rest of the kids—they’re always ready to eat. It was a fair-weather fall day and I decided we could make the best of it and take food to a park before heading home for naps.
If you’re from the Midwest and live anywhere near a Kwik Trip, then you might understand why I picked this gas station as our lunch stop. Among some of the affordable wonders that KT carries are their crispy chicken products. On days when I’ve forgotten to pack lunch, or thought I would be back home sooner, this is the place to go.
There’s a drawback though— no drive-thru. I sat there taking in the situation for a minute; I had a van full of hungry, tired kids, some of whom had to go pee again. Last time I checked I still only have two arms, and I don’t normally take all six kids into gas stations with me because even taking in two can be difficult.
I wanted a grandma, my husband, or a friend. I asked God to give me strength and if possible, to send help. I took a deep breath, and said, “Ok kids, we’re going in to get lunch!” As kids started filing out of our 15-passenger, I noticed an older man had just parked next to us and was watching with amusement. He made a comment about there being a van full of kids and I was not amused but I rolled with it and attempted to be friendly. He asked if they were all mine (people can’t help it, they have to ask). “Yup!”
While we shopped, I managed to keep us all together and nobody fell or knocked any displays over. Success. I quickly filled up the little shopping cart with what we needed for lunch, along with some essentials like bananas and butter. As we were wrapping up, the old man from the parking lot said, “Take your time, and when you’re done, I’d like to pay for your groceries.”
Up at the check-out, the lady working there smiled. She said to me quietly that this man is a regular customer, and he does this kind of thing a lot. He even bought her groceries once. I hardly knew what to say to her, or to the man. I simply told him thank-you as we walked out. My big kids noticed what was going on and had a lot of questions when we got back in our seats. I was as surprised as they were.
When food says, “I see you”
It seems that a stranger buying your groceries, any amount of groceries, is an uncommon scenario. But has someone ever cooked you soup when you were sick? I had a friend bring me chicken alfredo once when I was 40 weeks pregnant; she volunteered the meal, I didn’t ask for it. I’m positive it was the best chicken alfredo I’ve ever had. This casserole pan had chicken breasts baked with pasta in a buttery cream cheese sauce.
Sometimes food has felt like a welcome home. Growing up, my best friend’s mom used to keep my favorite kind of pudding stocked in their fridge and I was the only one who ate it (tapioca). There was something about knowing that it was there just for me.
Often, the most meaningful meals have been the simplest ones: PB & J sandwiches, eggs, toast, a hot bowl of oatmeal. Have you noticed that no one cooks or serves oatmeal the same? A friend of mine commented today on how everyone’s version of chili is different. Chili is another one of those simple comfort foods that has a personal touch.
I still think of the time I ate spaghetti at a neighbor’s house on a really bad day. She didn’t expect my kids and I to be hanging out that day, but she welcomed us in and started the pot of pasta.
What I’ve learned is that food can be used as ministry in more ways than we might think. It goes beyond food pantries or buying lunch for the homeless. Many of us have the money for groceries and we’re capable of cooking our supper. But there are other needs, like our hunger for connection. A pizza dropped off for a struggling friend can say, “I see you.” Meals can be cooked for the sick, the lonely, the grieving, and the grumpy. I can say I’ve been gifted food or meals in all those times and have been incredibly grateful for it. Maybe the grieving was too fresh to even be able to eat. Or the casserole was too mushy, salty, sweet, ect. for my tastes. It didn’t make the food any less of a gift.
I want to hear from you: think of a time when food was more than just a meal to you. Who cooked it? What did it mean to you?
That's really cool, Shannon! I hope someday (when I'm less overwhelmed in the grocery store) to be the kind of person who notices a mom with littles, and can offer a kind comment or a pizza 😀.
I haven't always loved to cook, but I'm learning to see giving food as an important ministry. Like you said, an "I see you."
Even if it's watching a friend's kids and making them buttered pasta or making sure to have snacks for them, or dropping off a meal to a sick friend or new mom, or inviting a friend to dinner. It doesn't have to be fancy to show love and care.
And everybody eats!