the healing power of cooking for others

It’s been a day from Hell. I can’t send email because my ISP is doing maintenance on its servers. I have a work crisis involving an author whose own fucked-up Word formatting issues are causing horrible problems that he’s blaming on my incompetence as an editor. (And, of course, I can’t do anything today to resolve this crisis, because I can’t sent email.) My computer is behaving in a wonky manner despite being heavily laden with antivirus, antispyware, and firewall software. One of my beloved cats is scarily sick. I had to do all my shopping for my weekly night of church cooking on Senior Citizens’ day at Kroger, so the aisles were clogged with slow-moving carts. Amid all the attempts at troubleshooting my email and other PC problems, I didn’t allow enough time for food prep. Doug and my daughter couldn’t go and help this week, so I wasn’t sure I’d have any help once I got there, other than my son. I barely made it to church in time to get everything ready.

But when we arrived, a wonderful couple were there to help. My son helped me put together 60 burritos; I became calmer the second I spread beans on the first tortilla. Rice got cooked, banana pudding dished up, tables set. 50 people came and ate food that I had begun to prepare in a state of horrible stress — and had finished cooking with a feeling of peace.

My email still doesn’t work, but I’m ready to face another day.

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