Our small oak table, weathered by other generations, creaked as we crowded around for family dinner. The squared space could scarcely hold all the tiny plastic bowls and colorful demitasse spoons, the sippy cups and our two grown-up plates. But like every night for months we sat close enough to reach their full lips with food for soon-to-be full bellies.
I spooned tender jasmine rice and squared carrots into his tiny mouth. He scooped glistening peas with mint and lemon zest confetti from a bowl to her tongue. We mimicked the basic meal plan of the orphanage to keep things familiar for the kids, gently and gradually introducing new foods into the diet of our adopted babies. The menu was simple, but it was still love.
My son chattered in between spoonfuls of sweet strawberries draped with Greek yogurt and slivered almonds. (Yes, we dodged all the allergy bullets in terms of nuts and berries!) He loved to eat and talk, in equal amounts, really. My daughter remained quiet but engaged. Since she only got her hearing aid mere months ago, she hadn’t found her voice yet and concentrated on listening instead. Doctors offered no guarantee that she’d ever speak; it remained a mystery we lived with. For most meals I just sat grateful she’d been retrieved from edge of hospice, words or not.
Read the rest of this tale about simple meals & simple words over at See Preston Blog, where he’s hosting a conversation about When There Are Everlasting Meals.
Preston is currently working on his first book, Tables in the Wilderness , a memoir of God found, lost, and found again. It’s set tentatively to release October 2014 with Zondervan. While I love Preston and his many good, lyrical words, our true connection developed over our shared passion for good food. How fitting that my guest post for him should also be about food, tables and the family that shares them!
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