I love you. Have a casserole.
June 4th, 2012
As we’re settling into (and loving every second of) small town life, my kitchen has been getting a workout. I’ve always believed that food is at the heart of hospitality — my parents taught me that! — and that mindset is definitely evident around here, too.
It started with an old-fashioned picnic on our first Sunday at CountryChurch. The members turned out en masse to welcome us with pasta salads, brownies, burgers, and watermelon. Although assured repeatedly that it wasn’t necessary, I made potato salad. You can’t come empty-handed to a potluck!
Then there was the Night of the 15 Dinner Guests. Which was really just the beginning, as we’ve issued a standing invitation to the congregation for Sunday Suppers. We have a sign-up sheet and everything. We’ve dedicated Sunday night to breaking bread with our new church family and are looking forward to slowly making our way through the whole congregation. (Yesterday, we had a more sedate gathering with a mere nine diners.)
There were muffins and scones to be made for our Free Farmers Market in May (more about that awesome bit of church outreach some day!) and last Friday, our youth group set off on a mission trip to an area of Kentucky hard-hit by storms. Since they were leaving at the crack of dawn from the church — which just happens to be next door to our house — it seemed only right to bake muffins for them.
Tonight, we walked to a member’s home (in the rain, as it turned out) to bring them dinner because her father had died. We packed the whole family up for the delivery, with kids in the stroller and dog on a leash. I explained to Miss Mouse that our friend was sad because her daddy died and we were bringing her food to tell her we loved her.
Sometimes, things make the most sense when you’re explaining them to a three-year-old. Because it’s totally true. Nothing says I love you quite as much as home-cooked food!