Memorable Meals

In one of my pastor-husband's sermons he mentioned "memorable meals" we've shared in various countries. "Various countries" because, though we've relocated back to the states, we lived about sixteen years in France as missionaries.  During those years we were fortunate to have had contacts with people of many nationalities in France, as well as by traveling to other countries from France.  

In his sermon my husband was pointing out the closeness  between people when they sit down together at the table for a meal.  Food is shared.  More importantly, communication is shared.  People tend to relax and get to know each other around the table.

We found this to be true wherever we went.  Accepting an invitation to sit at the table and share a meal with someone, no matter how simple or how luxurious the meal, was often the key to communication between us - to understanding, to becoming friends.  Many barriers were done away with, in our travels, when we agreed to sit down at the table with strangers, as well as friends.

If we accepted their invitation, sat at their table and ate their food (or invited someone to our table), then they were more apt to believe we were truly interested in getting to know them. They believed we really did care.  And we did.

What did we eat, you might ask?  Does it really matter?  Is it not the fact that we DID eat that matters?  We happily sat at the poorest of tables, as well as at a few of the wealthier tables, sharing not only the food but, even more, their lives...their hopes, dreams, sorrows, joys.

"Yes, yes", you say impatiently, "but what did you eat?"

"So much", I will answer, "and so little".

French cooks, for the most part, live up to their reputation.  From the five-to-six-course Sunday afternoon dinners to the afternoon cups of tea and coffee and slices of "gateaux" (cakes).  Delicious. How nice it was to enjoy some of their meals.

We were fortunate, too, to have had contacts with many of the immigrants in France - and delighted to get acquainted over their different ethnic foods.

Kimchi and gingsing tea with our Korean friends ... couscous and mint tea at our Algerian, Moroccon and Tunisian friends' apartments (with slight variations from each country).  Tiny, sweetened cream cheese dumplings with Polish friends ... coffee and kougelhopf  and madeleines with French friends ... parsley, lemon and couscous salad at a Lebanese friend's.  Diversity, for sure!

During the worst drought ever in Mali, Africa (at that time, anyway), when food was so scarce people were dying by the multitudes every day, we sat on the sand floor of a small hut.  Forming balls of hot rice with our fingers, out of a large common bowl, we dipped the rice balls into the other communal bowl of hot sauce.  We didn't want to eat what little food they had.  They insisted.  We did eat.  They were sharing not only their bit of food with strangers, but their lives.  Their culture.  We made new friends.  We communicated.

Right after the Romanian revolution we sat at a poor farmer's table, humbly and gratefully swallowing the cabbage soup and cabbage rolls (which were delicious).  The family stood around the table watching silently as we ate (their custom).  We were the well-fed westerners eating at the table of the almost-starved. They were so proud to have us at their table. We could not refuse.  We ate.  And our bodies, our souls, were filled with much more than cabbage soup.

Such meals are etched in our minds forever; and the people in our hearts.

Now, back in America, we see many changes in family life and meals.  Much of American "table life", we've seen, consists of restaurants and fast-food places.  Too many of us live life at such a fast pace that we've lost the importance of  "memorable meals", of shared tables ... the importance to our children, to ourselves, to extended family, to friends and to foreign visitors.  Might this not be a factor in so many youth being lost to gangs, drugs, other crimes?  Could the loss of much of their family togetherness - sitting down together at the table and eating a real meal together, sharing their lives with each other - could this be, perhaps, a huge factor in our children heading in wrong directions?  All kids deserve good memories of some home-cooked meals and sitting around the table with their families, eating and talking - communicating with each other.  Loving each other.

 I don't need to travel far to find someone, besides my own family,  to share meals with at our table.  I just need to take the time to do so.  To reach out. To want to get to know someone more intimately...to make a new friend.

As a Christian, what better way to share the Gospel of Christ, to show His love for everyone, then by inviting someone to sit at my table and share our food?  When someone sees that I am honestly wanting to get to know him or her, to listen, to show interest - then that person is more apt to listen to me; to hear about and discuss the Gospel.

So ... there are many reasons for sharing meals.  For me to accept to eat with another.  For me to invite another to sit at our table, whether I can serve a full-course meal or simply a cup of water and a shiny apple, I store up many "memorable meal" memories.  I get to know someone else; and someone else comes to know me better.  I show the love of God by sharing.

Romans 12:13 (the Bible) tells us:

"Share with God's people who are in need. Practice hospitality."

And, in I Peter 4:9 (the Bible) we see:

  "Offer hospitality to one another without grumbling."

We don't need to be wealthy to do this.  As it says in Proverbs 15:17 (the Bible):

"Better a meal of vegetables where there is love than a fatted calf with hatred."

Want to make some memorable meals?



 

Off the Roller-Coaster and Under His Wings

Several years ago I told myself I would never again say, "It couldn't happen to us" and, "It couldn't get worse" ... because it did happen to us and it did get worse.  We were missionaries at the time; and missionary families are not immune to sorrows.

I've come through the shock, the anger, the "what-did-we-do-to-cause-this?" questions, the forgiveness, the "where-have-you-been-God-and-why-did-You-let-this-happen?" questions.  I've come through them, though not entirely unscathed.  There is still a lingering low-lying sadness that can be controlled, that doesn't take over every day - but still there, nonetheless.  There is a loss of energy that can be, I think, attributed to sorrow and adversity (among the other usual reasons).  God can certainly bring good out of painful situations, but life is never the same afterwards.

We continue to cope with family stresses.  Sometimes I feel as if I am on that old roller coaster.  Up. Down. Around the bend. Hang on! It's getting worse.  Look out! We're going down fast! But I don't want to hang on.  I just want off.  Enough.  I want to make all unpleasantness go away.  I want to fix it.  Can't I fix it, God?  How long do I have to stay on this wild ride?  And why?  Why can't everything be like it is "supposed" to be?  Why can't we all be perfect ... and happy ...and kind ...and loving?  Why can't You just intervene, God, and make this happen?

When I read in Psalms I SO understand David.  In Psalm 142, my study notes tell me, David was in a cave praying for deliverance from his enemies.  He'd had enough.  He wanted off of HIS roller coaster.  He was tired.  He was sad.  He didn't want to hang on - he just wanted to let go of it all and have some peace, some rest.

"I pour out my complaint before him: before him I tell my trouble" - Psalm 142:2 NIV

"Listen to my cry, for I am in desperate need" - Psalm 142:6 NIV

David yelled "HELP"!  He was tired of trying to avoid his enemies. That took up a lot of energy.  He was full of fear.  Maybe he, too, had learned to never again say  "it couldn't happen to me" or "it couldn't get worse".

"Listen to my cry, for I am in desperate need" ... "help me, please!"

I often pray the same things when adversity strikes.  Just when I'm thinking I can let down my guard and relax, when I'm feeling as if maybe God heard my cry after all - WHAM! Something new happens.  But all I want is rest, and peace and to be free of the fears that arise with adversity and sorrow.  I don't want to learn any lessons.  I don't want to know the "whys" of it all.  I just want out of it.  Like David.

A good many years ago, when we still lived in France, I experienced one of those "it-couldn't-get-worse-but-it-did" moments.  I'd had surgery on my nose for what had been thought was a minor problem, a perforated septum. During the surgery the doctor decided it was worse than he'd thought, and ordered a biopsy done.  Later, I left my hospital room to go down to his  office for the biopsy results.  In France the doctors will rarely (at least back then) tell you that you have "cancer", if you do.  Their theory is that patients do not want to hear it, so they will beat all around the bush to explain the problem rather than use, "the" word.

My doctor was no different.  He stared at the ceiling as he told me he had the results back.  My heart pounded and fear rose quickly as I awaited the verdict.  He continued to stare at the ceiling, in silence (really!).  I feared hearing the results but desperately needed to hear them.  Finally, I grasped one of his arms and I used "the" word:  "Is it cancer?"  He nodded and said, "yes".  Wow.  Talk about sorrow, pain, adversity.  And fear.  Shock.

I was allowed to go home for the week-end, but was to check into a larger cancer hospital, in another city, on Sunday evening.  I asked myself some of the same questions then, as I have asked myself at times during the past few years because of family crises. I cried out to God, as David did.  "Listen to my cry, for I am in desperate need."  I wanted to "fix" the situation - I wanted off of that roller coaster ride, as it was way too dangerous.  I wanted to forget it all and rest.  I didn't want any more sadness.  Enough already!

I had allowed the fear to so burden me down that I'd lost sight of what our then-sixteen-year-old daughter had seen, in spite of her own fears about her Mom - that the only way "out" was through prayer.  The only way out of the the fear, if not the cancer itself, was through crying out to God, through resting in Him, through trusting Him to handle it. 

Our daughter had written Psalm 34:4 on a small yellow piece of paper (it's still taped into the front of one of my Bibles) and taped it to the top of the tissue box I'd packed for the hospital.

"I sought the Lord and he heard me and delivered me from all my fears" (NIV).

I once again saw God's response to prayer (why do I ever forget?), as I read that verse on my hospital bed at two in the morning.  I was terrified.  And alone.  And God came through, as He always does.  Instantly.  It was one of the few times in my life that I could honestly say God has instantly responded to my prayer.  He just took that fear away.  It was as if He'd literally lifted a huge boulder off of my chest.  I called my husband and told him.  Whether I had cancer, or not, I could cope - since the debilitating, suffocating fear was gone.  Just gone. (By the way, after all the tests, scans and three biopsies were done, the doctors were puzzled, finally deciding I must have been given a wrong diagnosis - with one doctor not ruling out "miracle".)

God brought me through that fearful, stressful time.  He can still do the same for me and my family now.  We can all, with God's help, learn and grow stronger from the sorrows and painful situations we may go through.  God can, and does, bring good out of some pretty bad things.


"If the murder of the perfect Son of God can be explained, how much more can we trust that God is accomplishing His purposes through the adversity we face every day?"  (Charles Stanley, "Victory Over Life's Challenges", 199, Part II, 'How to Handle Adversity', p. 207.)

I don't welcome adversity.  Let's be honest here.  I would definitely like to flee from it when it appears.  However, as we just read from Charles Stanley, I need to trust that God is still in charge, the He is accomplishing His purposes, even if I don't understand His methods.  Even if it hurts.  Even if it's
tiring.  Even if it's sad.

I need to be still, and know that God "is" (Psalm 46:10).  All my stresses, sorrows, angers need to be bundled up and handed over to Him.  That's the way I can build my energy level back up.  That's the way I can not only forgive, but continue loving and helping.  That's the way I stop worrying, stop trying to fix it all myself.

"Find rest, O my soul, in God alone:  my hope comes from him" (Psalm 62:5  NIV).

Only in God will I find rest from adversity.  I can let go and trust Him to work it out, according to His plans.

Psalm 91:4(a) NIV is such a beautiful picture of finding peace and rest from the trial and adversities of our lives:  "He will cover you with his feathers and under his wings you will find refuge ...".

I am SO ready to snuggle under those wings and be safely covered by those soft, protective feathers.

Care to join me?

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He Waits

"Come to Me",
my Savior said,
"and I will give you rest."

And, yet, I linger.
Tired, worn-out,
rarely at my best.

"Come to Me,"
my Jesus said,
lay down your weary head.

"But I'm too busy,"
I say to Him,
and struggle on instead.

"Come to Me,"
my Redeemer said,
"you will find release."

Then, "yes, my Lord,"
I say to Him,
and find rest, joy and peace."

                -Sandra (Mers) Clayton-



(This was first published in the Christian magazine, "To His Glory" , Spring Issue, 2005)