Leftovers

I blame the little boy. It was all his fault. If he had just kept his mouth shut like he should have, we would not have be struck with the plague. It is a plague that calls us in the wee hours of the night. It is a plague that calls us to consume more and more. It is a plague that calls mothers and grandmothers to cook and cook. Have you figured it out? It's LEFTOVERS!

As you read this, some of you have your mouths stuffed full of leftover turkey and don't forget a little dressing. The ham sandwiches are calling you. The desserts--the pecan pie or apple pie--you plan your attack each day. Little by little you devour it.

For some of you, the leftovers are the beginnings of great science projects. Your kids will take them to biology class where their teacher will praise them for their ability to grow bacteria. You forget about them or even worse, there are too many to be consumed.

It is the little boy's fault. Remember that little boy that Philip and the disciples found with five loaves and two fish. Jesus took those small beginnings of a meal and blessed them. Then he told thousands--yes thousands--to sit down and eat. And they did. And when the baskets were passed around again there were leftovers! More than the little boy started out with.

Each Thanksgiving and Christmas, my mom had a ritual. I admit that I did not much like to do it. But she would always make me do it. Moms are like that--at least good ones! She would wrap in foil some plates filled with food. We would then take a plate to the old man who was alone in his shoe shop--Mr.. Sam. As I gave him the plate, the smell of alcohol would overwhelm me. But he smiled and thanked us. We were the only ones he would see on Thanksgiving. Then the other plates would be taken to the nursing homes and shut ins. We did meals on wheels long before it was officially organized.

There was a time when I hoped all the food would be gone after the deliveries. But we would eat on the turkey, ham, dressing, and desserts for days. But the baskets that were most filled during those times were the blessings of God.

Sharing food and time always multiplies itself. I think that is what the seasons of Thanksgiving and Christmas is all about. We give and keep giving. And we receive more than we ever gave.

Gotta run...the apple pie is calling my name!

Pray for me as I pray for you.

In the Master's Name,
Dr. M. Jack O'Dell