Between Thursday and Saturday, I fed over 200 people.

The first 140 or so were at a homeless shelter. Three work colleagues and I cooked and served first to a small group of women and children, and then to a seemingly never ending line of men. Most were in good spirits as we dished out mounds of spaghetti and meatballs. One of my endearing coworkers asked every diner “Is that enough? Do you want more?”

I handled the desserts—trays of donated cookies and homemade breads and brownies. When I asked what their preference was, I found that chocolate chip was the most popular with the women and kids. The men seemed to prefer what I called “The Sampler,” meaning that they’d eat anything as long as it was sweet. If they said they wished they could try them all, I added a couple of more items to their plate and called the array “The Sampler Deluxe” to the great delight of all within ear shot.  The Deluxe created many laughs and wide, twinkling eyes, and I overheard from those still waiting in line, “I’m going to ask for that Sampler Deluxe.”

We were told afterwards by one of the shelter workers that people especially enjoyed themselves with us. He said it was the food itself but was it? Perhaps it was the generosity of having as much food as everyone wanted.  We gave it on first pass, not worrying about running out.  Did that make the food taste better? I’ve always been a believer in “loaves and fishes,” trusting God that all would be provided. This principle worked in full force that night at the shelter. Or perhaps it was our own joy in serving, not just the food but serving others, that mixed into the flavor of the night, enhancing the taste. We stayed later than required.  We left the kitchen and passed out extra cookies among the remaining men. We were all one.

It is a gift to serve. Nothing pleases me more than to provide food, comfort, assistance, or a kind word to someone who needs it. Sometimes people don’t even know they need it, and I rarely know what is needed. Serving others as a natural part of my life allows me to serve without having to know there is a need. As with energy healing, the help goes where it is needed. It just knows.

On Saturday, I co-hosted a summer dinner party. A “small” dinner party I put on the invitation. Nothing I do is small. One hundred people were invited, and sixy-five people accepted. For me, it was a Saturday begun at 6:00 a.m. in order to put five dishes on the buffet line by 8:30 p.m. followed by a homemade ice cream cake sliced and served. During the party, a few trusted friends acted as sous chefs to prep salads and clear off the appetizer dishes. The food went out on time, but like in the shelter, the food itself wasn’t the kicker. Most important was the community that people shared with each other at this dinner—new friendships made, old friendships renewed, and laughter oozing from many corners of the house, yard, and front porch. My guests too thought the food was amazing, but I think it was their own hearts and souls that filled them up.

My own meal? By the time I fed both groups of people both nights, I was full to the rim. There is no better nourishment than the satisfaction of making others feel happily fed on food and fellowship.

“When I was hungry, you gave me something to eat.”
Blessed Be.