There’s
something that always makes my heart beat a little quicker, my mind feel a bit
more focused, my world seem brighter and more exciting. It’s conversations that
go something like this -
Becci:
“My husband and I are going out tonight.”
Me:
“Is he taking you out to dinner? Where?
What are you going to eat?”
Or
Joy:
“My kids are coming home tonight.”
Me: “Are you cooking? What did you decide
to make for dinner?”
Or
Hubbie:
“Kris is getting married. We need to make
plans for a trip to OK in the fall. Let’s look at the budg… Hey! Where are you
going?”
Me:
“I’m going online to check out the
Diners, Drive-ins & Dives website. I’ll map out all the good restaurants
between Milwaukee and Oklahoma City.”
Of
course, it’s not all talk. My husband knows if he’s in trouble he simply has to
take me to Barnes & Noble to pick out a new cookbook, or mention
reservations at the new bistro that opened up in town, or bring home a bag of
tomatoes. All will be right in his world again.
Because
in my world, food = love.
I
remember the day my love language was clearly defined for me. I was eight years
old, and I was standing by the stove watching my mom burn pork chops. As she
was flipping them and scowling into the skillet, I started asking her
questions, “How do you know when to turn
them over? How do you know when they’re done? Is it when they’re black? Why do
you salt them? Why do you put pepper on them? Why do you put soy sauce on them?
Won’t that taste weird?” My mom bent
her head back and yelled at the ceiling, “I
HATE cooking!!!”
I
remember feeling like all the breath had been knocked out of my body. I was
shocked, indignant and strangely hurt, like she had just told me, “Susan, I just realized that you’re my least
favorite child. I don’t want to take care of you anymore. Go live at the
neighbors.”
I
do know that’s not what she was
really saying, but that was the day I realized how important food is and how it
clearly symbolized so much more than just fuel for my body. An invitation to
dinner says, “I like you and I want to
spend time getting to know you.” Making a good meal for my family says, “I care about you and I’m taking the time to
show it.” Getting a box of chocolates says, “I’ll love you even when you gain 20 pounds finishing off these
hand-dipped raspberry crèmes.” Providing a meal for a shut-in says, “Don’t worry about anything. You will be
cared for.”
I
told you all this so you understand the significance of my next statement -
The
Residential Life staff went grocery
shopping for the
students!!!
Yesterday,
with joy and excitement, they went on a big shopping trip to Woodman’s in
Kenosha (where the students will all be shopping during the school year) and
loaded up carts and cars and cabinets with FOOD!!
Students,
you’ll be making a meal out of this food and learning new skills together.
You’ll
be eating dinner and laughing as you get to know each other.
You’ll
be popping popcorn to watch a movie with a new friend.
You’ll
be making Jell-O and sharing special memories of all the fun ways your mom made
it for you at home.
You
will be chopping some of it, cooking some of it, spilling some of it, and sharing
all of it. As you deal with this food every day you will learn to work
together, to care for each other, and how to care for your bodies. You will
learn that sharing builds trust and friendships, that knowing how to work with
food can lead to Appropriate Independence, that food makes people feel welcome
around you, and that God always provides for His children.
So
students, know that when the staff was shopping for all the food you see above,
they were thinking of so much more than just filling your stomachs.
They were saying, "You will be well cared for
at Shepherds College."
 |
| Students having dinner with Mrs. Leith |
Shepherds College - Guiding Your Transition to Appropriate Independence. Please visit us at
www.shepherdscollege.edu.
Thank you to Gloria, an
alumnus from the class of 2011, for writing today’s blog.
