1 Jn 4:19 Food Fights and More

Thursday after Epiphany
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By SOPHIE DRUFFNER

Beloved, we love God because he first loved us.  If anyone says, "I love God," but hates his brother, he is a liar..."

My house is a food battlefield. Fruit at our house is gone within three days. Chocolate-chip cookies and pizza are given a day, less if it’s a Saturday. You wouldn’t believe how fast our refrigerator empties, or how ravenous four sisters can get.

  

So, at fourteen, I resorted to hiding my candy and special foods in specific places. Ice cream was strategically covered with different freezer foods and disguised. I saved choice cookies in a tin box, and placed the box among empty boxes in a cabinet. Apples were hidden in the top corner of the Tupperware cabinet, away from the vultures whom I feared would descend. (When they did, they flew off with the sweet plunder and I was lefthelplessly giggling on the floor, the victim of a tickle attack).

The most notorious offenders are my mum, with the help of my fourteen-year-old sister, who once tickled me to the ground so that she could steal my stash of chocolate-chip cookies. My dad, upon discovering my Halloween Candy under the couch, proceeded to raid all the Reeses, calling “Treasure! Treasure!”Vultures.

Coming to high school, I discovered that no food was left untouched. It was socially acceptable for friends to steal cookies or fries off your plate. I soon exploited the system and began taking fries and cookies as well, but I always got a funny feeling when someone reciprocated. That was my fry she was eating! How dare she.

And then I met one of my closest friends who was one of the most generous friends I have ever had. Her parents would pick you up to take you somewhere, even if it was a few miles out of their way. She would let you have a pen or pencil always and she even made extra copies of blank study guides to give to people who forgot theirs.  And she and her dad would always offer you a water bottle if you needed it. Somehow, it was always cold, even if she had been carrying it around all day.

Comparing my attitude to hers, I am reminded of the boy in the story of the five loaves and two fishes. I can imagine being the boy, and having a great lunch ahead of me, imagining the crispycrunch of the bread and the delicious taste of roast fish. All of a sudden, a dusty disciple comes over and asks me to come right this way.  Reaching the top of the hill, he asks me if I will divide my share with a few people around me. I acquiesce reluctantly, but suddenly another bearded man with an air of authority takesmy food away from me. (How dare he!)

At once, he says a blessing over the bread and from nowhere, the great meal multiplies, and multiplies again! The amount of food exponentially explodes from formerly empty wicker baskets; I cannot believe my eyes. Then, the bearded man with the air of authority thanks me, blesses me, and I turn and walk away across the dusty hill, dazedly putting one foot in front of the other, hardly touching the food I had once longed so much for.

This year, one of my New Year’s resolutions is to be more generous, more caring, and to always offer whatever I have. Although I am unsure as to the status of my food stashes, I know that I will begin to act as my friend who always has everything for everyone.  Imagine if everyone had that listening ear or that kind eye or was generous with everything they said about others--how thankful we all would be.