The Feast is Ready

We arrived at Ethan’s house right at lunch time on our second “kidnapping” this summer.

He hopped and danced his way around the living room and announced that we were having a “feast” for lunch. “It’s my favorite meal!”

When the twins were delivered via C-Section a few weeks earlier, at 28 weeks, folks from Becki’s church had rallied round them and created a sign-up list that would cover at least one meal a day for the next two months. There are some good cooks in Becki’s church (but then I haven’t met a church yet that didn’t have at least a few good cooks) and the steady stream of meals arrived - one gourmet meal after another.

We walked into the kitchen and sure enough, there was the “feast” being laid out on a buffet table. Many of the meals arriving at Ethan’s house were more than 3 people could consume at one sitting and so Becki had assembled a wondrous array of salads, breads, condiments and other delicious things to eat.

When all was ready we were invited to help ourselves to whatever we wanted to try and soon we were all sitting around the table with heaped plates, getting caught up on our conversation. Several times Ethan urged us to try whatever he was eating at the moment that he was particularly enjoying. “This is my favorite meal!” he announced once again.

At the end of the meal there were far fewer containers to stuff into an already full refrigerator, but each of us felt satisfied with our “feasting”.

I made a mental note and at the end of our “kidnapping” set out a feast of our own.

“This is my favorite meal!” Ethan announced as he helped himself to leftovers that he had enjoyed the first time around, or leftovers that I had doctored for this “feast”. At the end of the meal, as at Becki’s, I had far fewer containers to return to the refrigerator.

We did another “feast” when we “kidnapped” Ethan again three weeks later. He could hardly wait to talk to Mom and Dad that night to tell them all about the “feast” we had had this time. His favorite was some left-over steak that I sliced very thin and heated up in BBQ sauce and left-over grilled onions. But he helped himself to a zucchini pancake, veggie-and-dip, stir-fried squash and a piece of cornbread. We are all fortunate that most of the time Ethan has a wide range of enjoyment.

While we ate I told him about my own favorite meal when I was growing up. We called it a “banquet” but it was the same idea. Once or twice a month, on a Sunday night, my mother would set out all the left-overs from the week. We were allowed to choose what we wanted to eat and inevitably our father would finish-up whatever we didn’t eat. If there wasn’t enough food to satisfy our dad, at the end of the meal he would break out his hoarded chunk of Limburger Cheese and carefully slice off a few thin slices to eat on bread or crackers. We kids would avoid that end of the table because we hated the smell of that cheese.

Ethan laughed at his picture of my family table and dove into the next item he wanted to eat. He was not at all disappointed at the end of the meal when I brought out TWO kinds of homemade cookies. And his joy was complete when I allowed him to take one of each.

Bill and I have enjoyed our own kind of “spiritual feast” as we have traveled through life. Oh, certainly the Word of God is a feast all by itself. But I am talking about the “feast” we have encountered as we have traveled from place to place, church to church, the “feast” that other people present.

It took me awhile to realize what a “feast” was available to us. I did not always fully appreciate the delectable “feast” that presented itself as I encountered folks in many different parts of the Church whose backgrounds were very different than mine. They did not always express their faith in the same “language” as I did, but I have come to understand that there are folks with a deep faith-walk, all over the place, in every part of the Church that I have had the privilege to explore.

I have, finally, learned to “taste” and savor other perspectives of the same God whom I love and want ever to know better. He has revealed Himself to me though the “dishes” that others have prepared with exotic spices and flavors of their own perspective that I did not even know existed.

And because I have learned to “taste” so many other “dishes” I have grown in ways I did not even know were possible. The “feast” at God’s table is so much greater than I ever dreamed growing up.

I believe that He invites each of us to the table to “feast” with one another. Sadly, too often, our “culinary” background keeps us from at least tasting what is available. But the Feast is ready and we are each invited to the table.

How Much Do You Weigh

“Grandma, Grandma, I weigh 54 pounds!”

Thus began a recent “kidnapping” of Ethan for six days in our home. He loves being “kidnapped” and we have been able to do that three times this summer.

Ethan has always like weighing himself on our scale. I am not quite sure why. Maybe it is the lighted digital readout. Maybe it is that the read-out is in bright red. I don’t know why, but he has always weighted himself at least once a day on that scale.

This visit, however, he weighed himself as soon as he got up each morning, after every meal, every time he had to use the bathroom, before and then again after his bath. Each time he would rush from the bathroom and report what the scale told him.

Most of the time it was within a pound or so of 50 pounds, sometimes 51, sometimes down to 49. I didn’t pay too much attention. I would off-handedly comment “that’s good”, or “Oh, well, you will gain it back after we eat.”

Then, about mid-week, Ethan came out of the bathroom and announced with great apprehension, “Grandma, I only weigh 47 pounds!”

This time I finally heard the panic in his voice and realized that this obsession with his weight had some cause.

I reassured him that all of us have a couple of pounds that go up or down, depending on what we’ve eaten, what time of day it is, etc. “Really?!” he said. “Sure, that is normal.” He bounded away apparently reassured. But later in the day when his weight was back up to 49 pounds, I could tell that was more reassuring than my words.

I finally made the connection when he interrupted his phone call with his mother, Becki, to tell me that Colin had gained an ounce.

“Ah, ha!” I thought to myself, “That is the reason.”

Colin, the boy baby of twin babies delivered at 28 weeks gestation, only weighted 1 pound, 7 ounces at birth. Every ounce, up or down, was a cause for rejoicing or alarm. At the time of Ethan’s visit, 9 weeks after the babies had been delivered, Colin had finally doubled his birth weight, while his sister, Roni, was over 6 pounds and gaining.

Weight has been a very important subject this summer and Ethan was duly alarmed when he saw his own weight go down.

We were able, finally, to talk about Ethan’s weight and the ups and downs of everyone’s weight. From that point on I was able to point out to him, “You are wearing heavier clothes than yesterday.” “You just ran up and down the stairs several times, that’s why you weigh a pound less.” And once when he weighed himself before going to the bathroom, and then again, after going to the bathroom, even that can affect what the scale says.

“Grandma, you get on the scale.” He urged several times. I assured him that I weighed myself regularly, but I didn’t want him knowing what I weigh. He seemed to accept that as he danced off to the next activity on his list.

No one, but my doctor, knows what I weigh, besides me. I have a horror that if others knew (beyond what they guess) they would think less of me. Our society is obsessed with what we weigh. I once was a part of a group that attempted to use Scripture to guilt us into losing weight – it did NOT work.

In truth, God does not care what we weigh. “Man looks on the outward appearance, but God looks on the heart.” God tells Samuel. The only time God is concerned with our physical weight is when the cause is from a not-right-heart.

But how about our spiritual weight? Can our spiritual weight go up and down? Most of you are already nodding your heads. Most of us have experienced those “highs and lows” of our faith-walk, those spiritual weight gains and loses.

I think it is quite possible that some of those “ups and downs” of our spiritual weight are quite normal. Just as I reassured Ethan that our literal weight goes up and down every day, so does our spiritual weight.

It is when our spiritual weight has numerous days of loss that we need to take note, we need to check our “feeding schedule” and do something about it.

Fortunately God’s table has a boundless supply of what we need and He is ready to feed us whenever we are ready to take in the next supply of spiritual nutrition.

And how about a spiritual weight-excess? I think when our spiritual pride begins to take over our dependence on God, that is a form of spiritual weight-excess. I am grateful that God has a wonderful spiritual weight-loss program that works quite well. All I have to do is ask and He puts me in the program – it does not take too long before I am humbled and in awe in His presence again.

On our last morning of the kidnapping, Ethan weighted himself, as usual, first thing in the morning. Then again after breakfast – his weight had gone up. Then he weighed himself a short while later after using the toilet. He was somewhat alarmed (again) that he had lost a pound. “Well, of course,” I used my most reassuring voice, “you just went to the bathroom.”

“Oh!” he pondered. Then he went to the water-filter faucet in the kitchen and drank a whole glass of water. Then he weighted himself again and sure enough, he had gained a pound.

We had nearly an hour before we were to head out on the two-plus hour ride back to his house. Ethan drank at least two more glasses of water and weighed himself after each one. I was too busy making sure we hadn’t forgotten anything to pay that much attention.

We did have to make one emergency stop on the way home.