I Can’t Say “No” To Meal Trains

Sometimes, I let my heart break or swell to rise up to action. If someone is close in proximity, my expression of love and support usually looks a lot like pulled barbecue chicken with a side of homemade mac and cheese.

It sounds insignificant and very temporary, but behind my quick meal drop-off is a restructured week, oriented to someone else’s suffering. I choose to rearrange because you, the people in my life, matter.

Your struggles and needs matter.

They matter so much that I let them change my normal and occupy my life.

Your challenges are on my mind as I work, as I stress, as I shop– when I try to juggle my checklist and schedule to make sure you see a visible and physical source of comfort.

As I wrestle my own children to prepare food for yours, I thank God that I am blessed to be able to serve you. I pray that I am passing a little of that peace and stability along to you.

When my own work is left undone and my kitchen is a mess, I remind myself that I do not need to wait to empty myself out for another: the Body of Christ lives and has needs now.

By the time I roll into your driveway, probably a little late, your family has been covered in prayer, united to my own life, and lifted up. And we are both fed.

Feed My Sheep

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