Hands and Heart
Last week I had one of those days. You know the ones--where you just feel off and something doesn't go your way and you just need to cry. When we have these type of days most of us have coping mechanisms. Sometimes I turn to running or working out, or to ice cream, or to a hot bubble bath but my chosen mechanism this particular day was to use my hands and engage my heart.
You all know that I have been frequenting the table intentionally; coming to the table in its various forms with an open heart and with the hope of encountering God. One aspect of the table I love is the part leading up to the gathering and breaking of bread--the preparation. I love to get into the kitchen to chop, stir, taste, and smell. I love the art of using my hands to create something that will nourish people with love and sustenance. Cooking engages my mind, my hands, my soul, and my heart. It brings me closer to the woman I want to be and to the God who created me.
As I felt the feels and cried a few tears I decided that I needed to use my hands and engage my heart. So I pulled a bunch of peaches out of my fruit basket and began to peel and slice them, letting the sticky sweet juice coat my hands and dribble onto the cutting board. As I peeled and sliced I felt a tiny bit of my heart awaken and begin to heal. I began to connect to the earth and to the God who made it.
Lately, I have been struggling to connect with God--my images too often get in the way. I have been struggling to connect with the God who created those peaches and who also created me, deeming both to be good. I often say that when I look at and peel oranges, clementines, or tangerines I believe in God. There is just something so incredible about those lovely little slices all tucked together and cloaked with a protective layer that whispers to me of a being far greater than myself. Something about the sweet sticky peach juice coating my hands made me think something similar. "O taste and see that the Lord is good" (Psalm 34:8).
Slowing down to peel, slice, and stir made the day melt away. The promise of a delicious end result that I could share with others and potentially eat for my breakfast drove me past the not so great events of my day and into a better state of being. As I finished my peeling and slicing I began measuring and stirring to create the crumbly topping that would coat my peaches. (I made a peach crumble, in case you were wondering.) As I sprinkled the topping over the peaches I felt satisfied and I experienced a sort of peace.
As the scent of something fresh and tasty filled the air I found myself relaxing and looking forward to when company might come over and we could share in the sacred act of breaking bread, or in this case, the sacred act of crumbling peach crisp. I am constantly being reminded that the simplest of things can ground me and bring me back to myself. It doesn't necessarily need to be anything extraordinary--sometimes it is as simple as a few peaches, some oats, a drizzle of honey, a dash of pecans, and a bit of coconut oil.
I hope that whatever type of day you're having you find time to engage your hands and heart in whatever ways are most authentic to you.
Blessings upon your day.
Love,
Margaret