It is hard to be honest, particularly with those you love the most. Why? Fear. Fear of the unknown. Of being abandoned. Of, perhaps, actually getting what you want. I learned today, that you can be dishonest by omission. What are you not saying?
Most conversations around food that I hear or take part in involve eating too much and gaining weight. Or how to eat less and lose weight. Or why is it we can’t walk past the cookie jar/table/fridge/pantry without grabbing a snack?
I don’t believe I have EVER been involved in a conversation with someone who has actually GONE HUNGRY because there is no other option. Here are some staggering statistics that may make you rethink your own obsession with food:
35.1 million AMERICANS – 12.4 million of those are CHILDREN* – have limited access to food because they can’t afford it.
1 in 4 of those who are standing in line at a soup kitchen waiting in line and hoping for food is a CHILD.*
Share the abundance that you take for granted every day. No, not the “fat” abundance that you obsess on every day, but the abundance of your time, money and access to food. Perhaps, finally, your relationship to food will morph into that which it is meant to be – one of nourishment.
For information on how to Dontate, Volunteer or Advocate to Feed America: http://feedingamerica.org/
*statistics from the book, Every Monday Matters.
“I love you,” I said one day walking out of my young son’s room at bedtime.
“I love you, too,” Kendall replied, sleepily.
“I love you more,” I playfully continued. Waking up a bit from his sleepy state, Kendall retorted with a mischievous lilt in his voice, “No me.” The game was on.
“No me,” I countered, smiling ear to ear on the outside and in my heart.
“No me,” he protested loudly and strongly, now fully awake and up for the challenge, asserting his will to win.
“No me.”
“No me.”
“No me.”
“No me.”
Not to be outdone and realizing that this would have to end or there would be no sleep for either of us, I came up with a doozy, “I gave birth to you!” Feeling smug, I blew a kiss and started to leave the room.” “That’s why I love you more!” I stopped in my tracks, speechless and stood in the doorway gazing at my baby all snug in his bed. He had the last word. Letting his victory (and mine) hang silently in the air, I hugged and kissed him once more then gently closed his door.
This exchange was so long ago, I sadly can’t quite recall the year. But now, at ages thirteen and nearly eleven, both my sons and I always recite this conversational ritual at bedtime, sometimes recite it in the mornings as they scurry out of the car to school, and occasionally recite it anytime we are going to be apart from one other.
This is my favorite and most comforting ritual. A ritual we created together, which slowly repeated itself until it was ingrained in our daily routine. On the rare occasion that it slips my mind and I only respond with an “I love you” back, Kendall and Kamden inundate me with “I love you” until it clicks in my head, “Oh yeah, our ritual!” and “I gave birth to you” eventually comes pouring out, followed by “That’s why I love you more” giggles and hugs and kisses. Yes, even at 13 and 11, with voices dropped and dropping, the beginning of mustaches and the end of lollygagging in my lap, I am comforted that I will always have this. That we will always share this intimate, quiet, affirming ritual that started when they were little boys, just babies really, and continues as they become young men.
Quite possibly the most delicious of all tomatoes. Wonderfully satisfying on their own or added to salads, sauces or nearly any recipie. I got this bushel at Trader Joe’s for 7 bucks! Mmmmm!
Today, I will write a letter to a U.S. Military Hero. They are all heroes. Regardless of your stance on war and the deployment of our troops, those men and women are doing their job, risking everything for our continued freedom. For the opportunity for us to sleep peacefully tonight. And while we sleep warm and safe in our beds, they do not. They are further away from home than you or I can possibly imagine and a letter that we write to them may be the only contact they have from the outside world. The only opportunity to know that their sacrifice is noticed. That they are appreciated, supported, known, and not forgotten.
I am grateful to our troops. Here is a list of sites to adopt a soldier, to write a letter or send care packages. The phrase, “One nation, under God, indivisible…” suddenly comes up and resonates by taking action.
