Searching for Satisfaction

Mealtime was the best part of the day when I was growing up. Mama always had delicious food on the table, and we knew to be seated before daddy so we could begin as soon as he sat down. We shared food three times a day every day. Saturday night was a special night, so we ate in the dining room. The fare was almost always steak cooked to perfection on the grill daddy built on our closed in back porch. The smell of charcoal drove the neighbors crazy during the winter, but daddy was determined to enjoy a very rare steak every Saturday night. He was in charge of the grill and the fare on Saturdays.

Sunday lunches were also eaten in the dining room. They were mama’s cooking at its very best. Pan-fried chicken with rice and gravy was my favorite meal, but I also loved her Salisbury steak with mashed potatoes and gravy. Mama was the gravy master. The streets of heaven may be paved in gold, but the rivers and streams are definitely filled with her amazing gravy. Mama had a gravy for every meat. Deliciously rich brown gravy accompanied her roast beef, and I can taste it anytime I encounter a Parker House Roll.

All mama’s breads were homemade. She made biscuits, cornbread, and wonderful yeast bread each week, but her special homemade yeast rolls were for special occasions. Her Parker House Rolls would literally melt in my mouth. She put a slice of ice-cold butter inside each before baking ¬†them to perfection. I could eat a dozen in a sitting. Food was mama’s way of expressing herself, and she expressed herself beautifully three times a day.

I awoke every morning to the aroma of her handiwork. Coffee was the first smell to come down the hallway from the kitchen, and bacon and/or sausage followed closely behind. I loved to guess what might be on the table. My favorite breakfast was a bacon and egg sandwich grilled in butter. I also loved sausage links and pancakes smothered in syrup and melted butter. Whatever we had, it was always great. I don’t remember ever eating anything I didn’t enjoy except when daddy was cooking seafood one Saturday night and made me eat an oyster. It went down my throat, but it didn’t stay in my stomach for long. Daddy didn’t force me to eat anything else after that.

Mealtime in my childhood home affected the way I look at food and the way I feel about eating alone. For the past twelve years, I’ve eaten many meals alone. It never has, and probably never will, feel right. I find myself munching and grazing as soon as I finish a meal. I know I’m searching for the satisfaction I got from those childhood meals, but it was not food alone that satisfied my cravings. The fellowship around the table is what made those times so filling. Mama’s food was amazing, but sitting down with my family and spending an hour eating and talking allowed the food to settle and satisfy.

We always had desert when everyone was finished. Mama brought coffee for herself and daddy, but we usually had a glass of cold milk with our delicious sweet treat. I left the table with a sweet sense of satisfaction that I don’t find when I eat alone. I have put on some extra pounds over the past year, and most the calories have come from searching for the satisfaction I felt when I sat at the table with my family. Things have changed drastically since the fifties and sixties, and it’s hard to get two people to find time to sit down for a meal. It’s important to take time at least once a week to sit together and share a meal with loved ones.

The little girls are in the habit of coming to my room for breakfast each morning, and I love having a little taste of that sweet table fellowship I remember from my childhood. The picture is from Leave it to Beaver. We certainly weren’t the Cleaver family, but we did feel a little like them three times a day ūüôā

Photo Credit: ABC
Photo Credit: ABC

Mylah High :)

When Gina came home from class yesterday, I stayed while she feed Mylah. Lillyann is sick, and I wanted to give her some special attention while Mylah nursed. Mylah is in the difficult process of weaning, so she was cut off before she was ready to stop. I love the sweet expression on her face after she nurses. I call it the Mylah high:) Her eyes are glassy, and her countenance expresses joy and peace and love all rolled into one. She has complete contentment, something for which we all search. My journey has lead me to many substitutes when it comes to finding the satisfaction my heart, body, soul, and spirt so crave. Yesterday, as Mylah and Lillyann slept on top of me, I finally found it. I learned this week that listening to and obeying God connects me to Him and His love in a way that is much better than a Mylah high:)

It’s easy to point fingers at those who do drugs because they are illegal and most folks don’t use them. It becomes a little harder to point to those with alcohol addictions and impossible to point at those who use food to get high. Workaholics are rewarded by society, and doers are dubbed saints in the church. We each have a drug of choice, but it never comes near the sweet satisfaction Mylah gets from nursing. God’s love is the only potion known to man that is better than mama’s milk. There is an unlimited supply; it’s free, and there are no harmful side effects. So why isn’t everyone running out to get some?

The problem is connecting and staying connected to the sweet source of God’s love and doing His will rather than mine or the world’s. Christ connects me to God’s love, and His Holy Spirit and Word keep me connected and help me find His will. Like everyone, I’ve tried many paths to contentment. They all left me either stuffed and miserable or drained and starving. Food is the safe drug of choice because churches not only condone gluttony, they encourage it. Fellowship around the table is essential to relationship, but the gathering often is more about filling than fellowship. The practice of having the Lord’s Supper together as a way of connecting to God and to one another has evolved into a plethora of platters filled with things that satisfy our bellies and have little to do with worship. Gluttony has become the sin of choice out of both convenience and frustration.

The world is like that platter of tempting food, and God’s will is the simple loaf and cup often left behind. His will becomes my project done on my time with with due credit and accolades expected. God’s simple will sits on the back burner. ¬†Activities replace relationship and it comes down to I’ll do it if you feed me. I’ll get around to it after work if I’m not too tired. I’ll do what’s expected if there aren’t any shows, games, practices or better offers in the way. I’ve chosen to do and do rather than drink in God’s sweet nourishing love, draw near to HIm, and do His will. Mylah will nurse anytime, anywhere, and any way. ¬†I pray I’ll have the same attitude when it comes to doing God’s will from now on.

Mylah needs nourishment, but she also needs to get close to mama and feel her presence. The same is true when it comes to God. He is Jehovah Jireh and will provide for all my needs, but He is also Adonai. Mylah is learning the hard lesson that she must transition to solid food and was absolutely adorable holding on to a little piece of cornbread and strutting around like a big girl yesterday. I spilled milk all over her shirt and scared her half to death when I had a bottle malfunction. ¬†I’m sure she was wondering why I even bother with the bottle when there is a perfectly wonderful alternative available. I wonder the same thing when I think about how God is on the back burner for so many when it comes to getting high. Mylah will eventually let go of the bottle and learn that it’s really mommy’s love that makes nursing so special. She will always have that. Her name means “My Love Always”, and mommy made it up:) God’s love is always there. Listening to His sweet voice and doing that which He places in my path is meant to help me draw nearer to God’s love. Love is what I have always sought, and in finding God’s, I’ve found my source of contentment.

I feel just the way Mylah looks each time I study God’s Word, pray, do His will, or just take time to be with Him. It’s even better than a Mylah high. As I do what God places in my path, I understand exactly how Mylah feels when she nurses. When I try to placate or pacify with that which the world places in my path, I feel just like Mylah did with milk all over her and the floor. God has shown me over the past week what it feels like to be closely connected and taking in His sweet love. As I have done His will and seen the results in my own heart and in the lives of those I’ve touched, I have achieved an even better high than Mylah.

I’m not getting weaned; I’m just getting started:) I’m addicted and pray that Mylah and Lillyann also get addicted to doing God’s will because it allows the fruit of His Spirit to grow beautifully. There’s nothing like it in this world:) The alternative is a sick belly that leaves me feeling the way Lillyann did yesterday. Nothing can satisfy when the tummy is twisted in a knot, and that’s what doing the world’s will feels like. ¬†Doing and doing just to do creates a big a pile of do do, and that isn’t pleasant for anyone. The way to tell the difference is there is bellyaching and do do in doing my will or the world’s. There is peace that’s better than a Mylah high when I’m doing God’s will.

God’s will isn’t difficult to find. Mother Teresa used to ask those who wanted to follow her and do what she did if there was no one in their home, their family, their neighborhood, or their community who needed them. She told them when there were none there, to come and see her. That was enough to humble, and I thought of her this week as God has reminded me of the many in my path who need a loving hand. Doing God’s will doesn’t bring attention or accolades, but it does bring the sweet sense of satisfaction that leaves me with glassy eyes and a state of contentment. Knowing my contentment will be complete when I come into His presence and spend eternity with God changes the journey and puts a bounce in my step as I walk in His kingdom now:)