Somehow I believed that because I was fat, I was supposed to inexplicably love all things dessert – chocolate and whip cream on your breakfast included.
Feasting is God-ordained. Feasting has beauty and power and meaning and importance. Feasting is part of family and community and learning to love the people that share this planet with us.
On Sunday nights we crowded chairs around a table, pulled out mismatched dishes, and took turns cooking a meal to be shared with everyone. I don’t recall anyone ever “apologizing” for their food choices – making a comment about how they would get fat if they had the desert, that they would need to run to work off the delectable homemade bread, or any other number of all-too-common conversations that normally surround tables of fellowship.