Here's Pastor Dave McDowell's weekly devotional that he sends out to members of his church. Dave is my brother and serves as the Music Minister at Stewartstown UMC in PA.
Call it tradition,
call it a return to childhood......
just don't call me late for dinner.
Every Sunday evening
I make it a ritual to come home from work
and make a toastie cheese
along with a bowl of tomato soup.
It's a nice way to unwind
after a long day of rehearsals and worship.
It also brings back memories
of one of my favorite school lunches
back in the day.
There is something comforting
in remembering the good things
in our past.
When I was an immature 3rd grader,
I remember running
(we will call it walking really fast
to appease my 3rd grade teacher)
to the cafeteria on toastie cheese day.
Later, when I was a mature 11th grader,
I realized that butting into line
was the quickest way to get my toastie cheese.
Now that I am a very mature adult,
I realize that butting and running are not necessary,
because I have my own kitchen,
and because as an adult,
I have more than 25 minutes to eat.
This precious Sunday evening ritual
went by the wayside
during the 13 months of construction
when I did not have a kitchen.
Once in a while during those 387 days,
I would heat up a bowl of tomato soup in the microwave,
but tomato soup just isn't tomato soup
without a toastie cheese.
This week,
my new kitchen became functional.
With the knowledge that my stove actually worked again,
I ran home from work
(okay, maybe not as mature as I thought......)
salivating at the thought of hearing
the toastie cheese grill on the stovetop.
It has been said that absence makes the heart grow fonder.
Although I think that saying was intended to describe personal relationships,
I find it equally true regarding my relationship with toastie cheese,
my stove, and my refrigerator......
As I restarted my ritual,
I had a new found appreciation for the refrigerator
as I pulled out the tub of margarine.
I was giddy as I reached for a butter knife that wasn't made of plastic.
My heart lept for joy
as I felt heat emanating from the stove top.
Euphoria set in as water flowed out of the spighot
to rinse my utensils.
I was overwhelmed with a profound sense of gratitude
as I reclaimed the very basics of household living.
Just when I didn't think I could feel more grateful,
I heard it.
It was a sound I hadn't heard for months......
that precious sound of an ice cube
slowly falling into the ice maker.
It almost brought me to tears.
My lip began to quiver as I pondered my options...
should I crush it
or perhaps cube it??
It is human nature to take things for granted,
particularly things that are common for us,
but not so in places of poverty.
I had the means to rebuild my home.
But what about earthquake victims in Haiti and Chile this year?
What about innocent people displaced during military revolts in Africa?
What about the person within miles of my home,
who has become homeless because of a job loss,
an injury, an illness, or the lack of a family support system?
The week after Thanksgiving,
I continue to give thanks,
and am humbled by why the Lord
gave me this life to live as compared to those who live in far greater need.
As I savored the moments in my virginal kitchen,
I realized that answer is that I am not the owner,
I am merely the steward.
And this steward has decided
that this kitchen, this home,
will always be open to both the friends that I know,
and the friends that I don't know.
May each of us,
have our own toastie cheese moment of enlightenment.
Oh yes,
while having this moment ,
I burned my toastie cheese.
Man I hate that!
To whom much has been given,
much shall be required.
Luke 12:48b
Call it tradition,
call it a return to childhood......
just don't call me late for dinner.
Every Sunday evening
I make it a ritual to come home from work
and make a toastie cheese
along with a bowl of tomato soup.
It's a nice way to unwind
after a long day of rehearsals and worship.
It also brings back memories
of one of my favorite school lunches
back in the day.
There is something comforting
in remembering the good things
in our past.
When I was an immature 3rd grader,
I remember running
(we will call it walking really fast
to appease my 3rd grade teacher)
to the cafeteria on toastie cheese day.
Later, when I was a mature 11th grader,
I realized that butting into line
was the quickest way to get my toastie cheese.
Now that I am a very mature adult,
I realize that butting and running are not necessary,
because I have my own kitchen,
and because as an adult,
I have more than 25 minutes to eat.
This precious Sunday evening ritual
went by the wayside
during the 13 months of construction
when I did not have a kitchen.
Once in a while during those 387 days,
I would heat up a bowl of tomato soup in the microwave,
but tomato soup just isn't tomato soup
without a toastie cheese.
This week,
my new kitchen became functional.
With the knowledge that my stove actually worked again,
I ran home from work
(okay, maybe not as mature as I thought......)
salivating at the thought of hearing
the toastie cheese grill on the stovetop.
It has been said that absence makes the heart grow fonder.
Although I think that saying was intended to describe personal relationships,
I find it equally true regarding my relationship with toastie cheese,
my stove, and my refrigerator......
As I restarted my ritual,
I had a new found appreciation for the refrigerator
as I pulled out the tub of margarine.
I was giddy as I reached for a butter knife that wasn't made of plastic.
My heart lept for joy
as I felt heat emanating from the stove top.
Euphoria set in as water flowed out of the spighot
to rinse my utensils.
I was overwhelmed with a profound sense of gratitude
as I reclaimed the very basics of household living.
Just when I didn't think I could feel more grateful,
I heard it.
It was a sound I hadn't heard for months......
that precious sound of an ice cube
slowly falling into the ice maker.
It almost brought me to tears.
My lip began to quiver as I pondered my options...
should I crush it
or perhaps cube it??
It is human nature to take things for granted,
particularly things that are common for us,
but not so in places of poverty.
I had the means to rebuild my home.
But what about earthquake victims in Haiti and Chile this year?
What about innocent people displaced during military revolts in Africa?
What about the person within miles of my home,
who has become homeless because of a job loss,
an injury, an illness, or the lack of a family support system?
The week after Thanksgiving,
I continue to give thanks,
and am humbled by why the Lord
gave me this life to live as compared to those who live in far greater need.
As I savored the moments in my virginal kitchen,
I realized that answer is that I am not the owner,
I am merely the steward.
And this steward has decided
that this kitchen, this home,
will always be open to both the friends that I know,
and the friends that I don't know.
May each of us,
have our own toastie cheese moment of enlightenment.
Oh yes,
while having this moment ,
I burned my toastie cheese.
Man I hate that!
To whom much has been given,
much shall be required.
Luke 12:48b
.
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