A Tableful of Boys

Last night I made supper for a tableful of boys – more than usual – and I felt a bit like Auntie Jo in Little Men. They laughed and ate and slurped spaghetti through gaps in front teeth and laughed and dripped cheese off chins and ate some more. I didn’t say much – being outnumbered 7 to 1 – but sat and dished and smiled.

I’m slowly learning that the more I give, the happier I am. The more I sacrifice time, energy and pantry supplies doesn’t deplete me - but in fact, energizes me. Makes me hunger to do more. That’s how it is in the Kingdom of God – backwards and upside down and radically illogical in comparison to the ways of the world that I’m used to.

After they all left last night, scurrying out and about to duties, full of food and thanks for the big dinner they just had, I did dishes and more dishes – and basked in the glow of the joy of service.

Come to think of it, I miscounted. There weren’t 8 around that table - but 9.

“Assuredly, I say to you, inasmuch as you did it to one of the least of these My brethren, you did it to Me.” -- Matthew 25:40