Advent Day 10: December 11th
The Power of Love

A friend invited me to dinner. Like me, she and her husband lost a child, so there is a deep knowing between us, and being in one another's presence is always healing and affecting. When I arrived, she was preparing a dressing for the salad. I watched as she ground sea salt with a mortar and pestle, eventually working in fresh herbs. She worked slowly, beautifully, her face flushed from the day's heat. Occasionally she turned to check the oven, where she was roasting chicken on a bed of rosemary and garlic. Beside the chicken, on the same black roasting dish, was a serving of hominy that absorbed the drippings from the chicken and was creating an intoxicating aroma.

I was ravenous, but when the meal was finally placed on the beautiful, long, wide-board table, I strangely felt as if I had already eaten. I also had a sense of deep joyfulness, but without any obvious reason. We began to eat and, in spite of the allure of the smells and taste, I found myself eating very slowly. I couldn't think of when I'd had a meal so deeply satisfying. Like a child, I found myself wishing I could always eat at such a table. Only later, driving home, did I realize it was in the manner she'd prepared the food, and not the food itself, that nourished me.

It was a simple meal. If only we guessed the power of love.


by Paula D'Arcy, Redbird Foundation
from the book: Daybreaks