But the food was utterly unimportant.
Yesterday, I listened as my heart-broken girlfriend related their most recent set-back through hot, angry, tears of despair. I didn't know else to do, so I offered her what I felt was the least I could do: offer her drinks after work.
Later on, I watched as our husbands played in a softball game. Our usually jovial friend was rather listless and said very little. After the game, I mentioned that I had offered his wife drinks when she got off work, but would he like to join us for dinner in the meantime? It was all I had to give.
By the time the meal was ready, the wife was able to join us. This was not the most lively meal we have shared with this animated couple. (And my house was a mess--Quelle horreur!) Sure we ate, drank, chit-chatted and shared a few jokes. But on this particular night, there were dark clouds on the horizon.
Later on, after we said our good byes and I started dishes, I heard myself stupidly repeating over and over, "The least I can do is feed you... At least let us offer you another drink."
I do not have pictures of a whole-some, home-grown, home-made meal (it is not to be remembered). I have instead pictures of the mess afterward.
Because something occurred to me:
In the quest for "whole" living, we often find our lives (despite our best efforts otherwise) to be messy, difficult and full of deep, dark holes.
One of my favorite sayings is "Good food, good wine, good friends." I have always thought of this as an expression of the good times. But perhaps it is most important during the most difficult of times.
Maybe the simple offer, "Can I feed you and pour you a glass of wine" is truly the BEST we can do for friends on their journey to whole-ness. For this particular meal, the important thing was sharing it; breaking bread in fellowship.
My constant prayer is that this family will very soon be whole.
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