My Jewish grandmother had a really small table. It was tall and wooden in her cottage kitchen. The kitchen had one window and was always dark...but cozy. Plus, it smelled good - like fresh bread (challah) and orange pekoe tea (her favorite). I would sit on one of two chairs at this small table while she made us something delicious to enjoy together. Every Friday evening was a "come to the table" night at her house where she prepared our Sabbath meal and often took it over to my uncles' home for all of us to enjoy together.
My grandmother has been dead for 30 years. I can't hold back the sting of tears when I type that out. However, her come to the table invitation holds fast in our home and in my life. I am known by friends and family to be the girl who brings food and makes food and loves to prepare food for those in my life. So much so that recently a thoughtful friend offered to freeze the lunches we left behind on the trail during an emergency because "she knows how much thought and care" I put into them. Cue the tears. She pegged my love language.
Naturally, as holidays approach, food becomes a focus of my heart. Each year, I have added more and more to my repertoire and my sons and I continue to build traditions around food. This Passion Week, we plan to spend our days preparing foods that remind us of His last days leading up to the His crucifixion and then resurrection.
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