Feasting, not Famine
Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life. It turns what we have into enough, and more. It turns denial into acceptance, chaos to order, confusion to clarity. It can turn a meal into a feast, a house into a home, a stranger into a friend. Gratitude makes sense of our past, brings peace for today, and creates a vision for tomorrow.
These last few days I have been feasting.
You see, we've been with family since the beginning of October (how is it now the middle?), which not only explains my recent lack of writing but also explains the feasting. In my book, family is synonymous with good food. We've had Mama Jewell's pot roast that tastes like home, my childhood favourite beef and green peppers, early morning pancakes, whole pots of stove top coffee, four-layer chocolate pudding loveliness, perfectly popped kettle corn and lemonade, rich spoonfuls of tortilla soup... And family aside, it's been nice to get a few things that are harder to access in our neck of the woods, like fat Vietnamese summer rolls with luscious peanut sauce or pumpkin spice lattes from Starbucks or vegetable laden lo mein and sweet honey chicken. My stomach is in its happy place.
But the feasting didn't just stop there. I've been feasting my eyes on the autumn trees, watching as leaf by leaf they bring in the season. I forgot how many trees there are here; sometimes it's hard to tell where one starts and another one ends. I've loved watching the deer in my parents' back yard with their slender legs ready to jump at any moment. I've relished the sight of young faces in the fire lit dark as the Man's siblings wrapped fingers around mugs of homemade cocoa and played flashlight cops and robbers. Mostly I've enjoyed the smiles on my little men's faces as they've loved and been loved on.
These are sights and sounds and tastes, but mostly they are memories. My heart is being fed. So while long hours in the car and a teething baby in a pack and play may not always be restful, I am feasting my heart on the wonderful gifts that have been given us.
-Melody Beattie
These last few days I have been feasting.
You see, we've been with family since the beginning of October (how is it now the middle?), which not only explains my recent lack of writing but also explains the feasting. In my book, family is synonymous with good food. We've had Mama Jewell's pot roast that tastes like home, my childhood favourite beef and green peppers, early morning pancakes, whole pots of stove top coffee, four-layer chocolate pudding loveliness, perfectly popped kettle corn and lemonade, rich spoonfuls of tortilla soup... And family aside, it's been nice to get a few things that are harder to access in our neck of the woods, like fat Vietnamese summer rolls with luscious peanut sauce or pumpkin spice lattes from Starbucks or vegetable laden lo mein and sweet honey chicken. My stomach is in its happy place.
But the feasting didn't just stop there. I've been feasting my eyes on the autumn trees, watching as leaf by leaf they bring in the season. I forgot how many trees there are here; sometimes it's hard to tell where one starts and another one ends. I've loved watching the deer in my parents' back yard with their slender legs ready to jump at any moment. I've relished the sight of young faces in the fire lit dark as the Man's siblings wrapped fingers around mugs of homemade cocoa and played flashlight cops and robbers. Mostly I've enjoyed the smiles on my little men's faces as they've loved and been loved on.
These are sights and sounds and tastes, but mostly they are memories. My heart is being fed. So while long hours in the car and a teething baby in a pack and play may not always be restful, I am feasting my heart on the wonderful gifts that have been given us.
