I hesitate to write this post as it is rather personal, and I am not always sure how things will be taken by others reading it, but since I use this blog also as my journal of sorts, I thought it was important to record this.
So . . .This is dedicated to anyone who has ever taken dinner to a neighbor . . .
A few weeks ago I was feeling a bit overwhelmed with everything happening at the time. I felt pressure from many directions and lacked the time to accomplish everything needed. And so in desperation I decided to ask in my morning prayers for guidance on how best to spend my time that day. That may have been the lazy way out, but I was at a loss on how to prioritize my time and so was seeking help.
Interestingly to me, several days during the next couple weeks I became aware of people who were sick or otherwise in need and felt prompted to take them dinner. Once I had leftovers from a party and was able to feed two families. On another day I miscalculated how much to cook for my family and gave away the surplus. And still on other days, I made emergency trips to the store.
I was a bit puzzled as to why I felt the need to feed so many families. I wondered if there might be something better I could do for them. I recently heard a speaker make fun of the Mormon culture and our belief that a casserole was the cure all to every ailment and trial. I also remembered once reading an article in the Ensign titled, "Caught in a Casserole" which suggested we might want to consider other ways to serve rather than just taking food. I decided my feeling prompted to take dinner to others must have been God's way of making sure my husband got fed--as I haven't been very good about cooking dinner these past few months. (yes, I confess)
And then I had an experience which changed my mind.
I came home Tuesday afternoon after spending a fairly sleepless night, and being gone all day at meetings. I was very tired and achy. I still had my seminary lesson to prepare, dishes to do and a dinner to make before my husband left for his church meetings at 6:00. But what I really wanted was a nap.
Then I received a text from a good friend that read, "I'm bringing you dinner. I will be there at 4:45." I had not talked with her all day. She did not know how I was feeling or even that I had not been home until then. She had just been cooking dinner for her family and said it kept expanding beyond what they could eat so she decided to share--with me.
Initially I felt guilty. I was not sick, and I had time to prepare my own meal so I felt bad someone was cooking for me. But then she and her husband walked in to my house, carrying a hot chicken pot pie and a delicious green salad.
A warmth filled my soul,
And I felt loved.
Not just by a friend who was willing to share her abundance with me, but also by a Heavenly Father who taught me that sometimes a casserole is the perfect way to serve.