Taste and See

Lately I’ve been feeling an invitation to sit and eat.  For most of my adulthood I have eaten breakfast and lunch in the car, at my computer, or in a meeting.  In the moments when I am eating alone at a table I’ve used the time to read a book, check my email, or catch up on calls.  Often I will look down at my plate and be sad that the food is gone, barely remembering that I ate it.  Rarely have I sat down and tasted, savored and been present to my food.  

I remember on my sabbatical being surprised at how much I enjoyed cooking.  I surmised it was because I had time to do it. Many days the only thing I had on my schedule was eating.  I would go to the farmer’s market and pick out ingredients and come home and cook, enjoying the task and freedom to be present in the moment.  I vowed I would not multi-task while cooking again. 

Fast forward seven years, a husband and baby and new job later and I’m microwaving and throwing things on a plate while trying not to step on my toddler and debrief the day with my husband or catch a friend on the phone before the bedtime routine.  I haven’t been to a farmer’s market in over a year and I’m ok with that right now.

Most days I’m proud of what I’m able to squeeze in and yet still I feel an invitation to take my meal time as a pausing moment, a readjustment in the day, a chance to stop, breathe, taste and see.  This morning I have work project deadlines pressing in on me.  The baby is down for a nap and I was going to suck down some eggs while knocking out the next chunk of the project. I’d already been running all morning.  The eggs were farm fresh from grandma’s house. The house had been quiet for five minutes, so I decided to heed the invitation and taste the eggs.  A few minutes of eating was not going to make a difference in this project but it would make a difference in my posture the rest of the day. 

Stop. Breathe. Eat. Taste and See That the Lord Is Good.  I have eggs.  I have a chair to sit in.  I have all I need in this moment. It is well with my soul.