Lent Day 7 Which is Really About Day 6

Yes I kind of missed yesterday. I let the cartoon stand for the day and that was kind of cheating I guess. But there were Things Going On. The Day Job. Bible Study with the Soul Sisters. An article to be written in my Storyteller of the MDG Project hat. Minutes to be done in my Secretary of the Diocesan Region hat. By the time all that got done, it was bedtime. So there you go. I did think about what I would have written. I was actually composing a post in my head while I ate my dinner. I do that sometimes, write things in my head that never get here, I mean. The one I was writing last night was about mindful eating. One of my Soul Sisters is doing this as part of her Lenten discipline....really slowing down and focusing as she eats, reflecting on where the food comes from, who all went into bringing it to her, praying for them. I was thinking about that last night as I ate my rice (90 second microwave in the packet) vegetables (also microwave in the package) and chicken breast (from a bag of them...all frozen as well). I thought about how it would be a lot easier for me to get in touch with the sources of my food if it were as it is when I go to the yurt. When I eat there I am invited to be very intimate with the sources of my dinner. Almost uncomfortably so...as the sisters remind me that the chicken we are having was trotting in the yard just a few days ago, or the pork chops lived down the road just last fall. But it is good too, to know that the grain from the bread is grown by the farmer next door, and milled in the next town, and the bread is baked locally. The vegetables are the direct result of the sister's efforts, the butter is from Daisy the cow across the road. All the people whose labor feeds me have names, and I could meet and talk with them if I wished. But last night this was not so...it was all from somewhere distant and disconnected....from me. From me. But not from God. God knew each one of the people who grew the rice and the vegetables and the chicken that made up my little frozen repast. God was aware in that moment and this moment of them and me and all of us. It was a very wonderful connective little "aha" that I would have written about last night, had I written.