An empty macaroni & cheese serving pan — a pretty common sight when we serve it.
I’m pretty sure it happens every day I cook.
I take a look at the crowd, I take a look at the food, and I pray for a loaves-and-fishes moment. The real-life moment — not a parable — when Jesus fed 5,000 followers with five ordinary loaves of bread and two fish.
- “Will 30 pounds of bacon feed 100 teens? If it doesn’t, I don’t have time to cook more.”
- “Is this enough salad? The romaine lettuce needed more trimming than usual and I literally used every head.”
- “I have 96 yogurt containers for 125 people. That’s usually OK, but these kids are really hungry.”
- “We were supposed to get 30 portions out of these ribeyes, but we’re only getting 25.”
- “There are only 150 people who reserved, so why are all of our 250 seats full? There is not enough food.”
With very few exceptions — all of which can be traced to somebody’s bad judgement or pure gluttony — none of the 100,000+ that have been served here the last five years have some through the door and not had a complete meal.
My reaction is relief. Not thankfulness. And that’s something I’ll be working on as I enter Year No. 6 here.
I can work on being more prepared. I can work on better sourcing.
First, I need to work on being thankful. All the time.
