Michael’s Meatballs
We all have someone in our family, for whom cooking is a challenge. Growing up, my life was filled with them. My father liked his meats still mooing and my mother liked hers so well done it was like shoe leather. I remember telling my father one year I was making spare ribs for a family barbecue and he informed me he didn’t like them. I asked him to give mine one try. Seventeen ribs later, he admitted they were amazing. I will remember that day forever. Not because he ate 17 ribs, but because of the look on his face while he ate them. His face was filled with this sense of reverence as if each rib was a gift from the Divine and that it had a meaning that surpassed human understanding.
Zoe’s cousin Bruce once asked me if I knew how to make Lemon Drop cookies. I told him no, but I would learn. These were a cookie his wife used to make him before she died. He missed them. So I looked for a recipe until I found one that sounded like what he had described. I remember the day he came over and I handed him a tin of these cookies. He stared at them with this unsure look on his face. It was as if he was afraid to try them in case they were not like what he remembered. It only took one bit and then the tears flowed down his face and he began praising God with each bite. There was this reverence in the way he savored each bite. He later told me they were more than cookies. I had seen that in the way he ate them, but I was grateful to know they had moved him and helped him heal.
This past weekend, I had a similar experience with a dear friends husband. He does not describe himself as picky, it’s just that he knows what he likes and doesn’t. He loves Italian food, but real Italian, like his grandmother used to make. He is a sweet guy and I wanted to do something special for them both, so I made a simple dinner for them – spaghetti and meatballs, salad, and garlic bread. I was nervous at first, but then I saw the look on his face. It was that look that is filled with memories. That feeling that makes you not just eat dinner, but savor each bite and eat it with a reverence because it is more than just a bowl of spaghetti and meatballs. It is culture, tradition, memories, and a feeling that fills and flows through you. I was moved by the reverence with which he ate them
Sometimes the meals we offer others are more than just meals. They are the Divine’s way of blessing others. We just get to bear witness to those moments of grace and reverence.
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