Saturday October 17, 2015
Saturday, October 17, 2015
The food pantry down my street, the one that operates out of my church (a church I haven't stepped foot in for some months) had a charity event last night. It was lovely and lively, with tastes and sips from around the neighborhood. The tickets were expensive already, but then the bidding came.
I brought a friend just to introduce him to the fun festivities and get his ticket-price donation. But during the live auction he casually raised his hand and agreed to buy groceries for a family for a year.
Food is powerful. It is sustenance and hard work. It is a history of exploitation and inequality. It is the center of our language of love and companionship--which means to break bread with.
Of course we struggle to understand how to negotiate food when we have a mixed bounty. For many Americans, calories are no longer an issue but nutrition is. Clean food--however you may read that statement--is still an issue. Further up the ladder of privilege we can eve worry about treatment of workers, land, sustainability.
I had a lush evening, balanced somewhat by bringing a wince to my wallet (I will put my donation under our grocery budget and just work magic with beans and cans) I do not regret the fried foods or the fatty desserts I had, nor the calorie-bomb beverages because I am alive. That was a carefully planned, perfectly executed event.
Tonight it repeats in small form. A housewarming for my friends who are bravely overcoming the hardest years if their lives. Years of abuse and depression and a broken home. When we warm their new home with our cakes and beer, we will bring laughter and a new family. We will recenter their universe to one where you choose your home and make it safe and beautiful--not claustrophobic and sorrowful.
I will count my calories and say "No" on occasion, but I will not begrudge these days of luxury and nard. Life is short. And these are beautiful memories.