This weekend I’m thinking about going to see my parents-just to catch up for the holidays. Long ago they stopped coming to the family’s holiday celebrations. It’s not that they weren’t invited, it’s that they opted out and we were kinda glad that they did.
My mom’s actually a good woman-my dad too, I suppose. They cared about us and wanted the best for us but placed an overwhelming emphasis on their vision of ‘heaven’ and the rules of their religion to the exclusion of everything and everyone else.
My brother-in-law is a chef. He feels that cooking for someone is on the same intimacy level as being someone’s physician or lover. As a cook, you are creating something that someone will take into their body and uses to sustain their life.
So when I think about going to my parent’s house and bringing some healthy snack, I think about the tradition of nurturing our ancestors showed. If they didn’t have their act together enough for their offspring to reproduce, we wouldn’t be here. Even the things we dislike about our family give us unique ability to empathize with others and to discover new choices for ourselves and our progeny.
The bread we break and consume is a reflection of the support our families have provided to us through the years. My intention is to practice this intimate reflection with compassion and gratitude.