Shepherd’s Pie for supper tonight reminded me of one of Heather’s gifts to her Dad during his final weeks at MGH. I bought mine today at Common Crow, kind of a local Whole Foods, just up the road. My choice motivated by convenience, Heather’s by love.
Some days I hurt, not just for myself, but for our children and grandchildren, for what they are missing since Jud’s not here to listen, advise when asked and just enjoy their growing-up and good company. Memories help.
One afternoon in October 2014, Heather left MGH, walked to the store, hauled groceries up three flights to the lovely apartment on loan to us in the North End, then prepared what she knew her Dad would love, Shepherd’s Pie. Jud’s Mother often made it. I never did.
Maybe Heather remembered times her Dad got up in the night with her when she was a baby, read the Chronicles of Narnia to her long before she could read herself. He’d been a good Dad, reading her papers, talking ideas when she was older, listening to her and her friends. So now, she did what she could and made Shepherd’s Pie.
So who cares? I think God does. We get stuck on BIG down here: BIG accomplishments, trophies, honors, bank accounts, degrees. Yet, most of life’s made up of small, almost incidental choices, sometimes spontaneous acts. Maybe suppertime matters more than we think to the One who said,”I was hungry and you fed me.”
Well, it didn’t look like communion at MGH when Heather brought dinner to her Dad but it was. Acts of LOVE become significant ways we remember Jesus, the Christ. The Twenty-Third Psalm, often read at bedsides of those who are dying, seemed more like a meal-time prayer on this occasion. “The Lord is my Shepherd I shall not want.”…and for one supper on Lunder 10, a daughter and her dad did not want for much. The Good Shepherd blessed the shepherd’s pie, prepared by a caring daughter, served in a borrowed dish from a borrowed apartment, and declared gift, giver and recipient Good.
Good to go.
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