THOSE WHO FEED US!






My senior boy spends much of his days outside of chores, school, sports, church, and the moments at his home with his real parents at his other two  homes---those of his close friends (Thank you Days and Luksanders).  As most parents of teen boys, we joke about how they eat us out of house and home.  The thought gripped me that my grown boy takes up their couch and parking space because they feed him.  We all know that if you feed a stray, they will stay a while (emoticon wink).

On  deeper level, I know my son would not stay at anyone's home just for the physical food.  He gets fed  too well at his homestead. But these homes feed him on a deeper level.  I haven't asked him, but I would guess that beneath the allowing him to play video games and watch endless sports, he senses they want him there, they care for him, and he feels comfortable and safe. Are there any better feelings in your day or world to want?

The thought just slammed into my chest with the entire power that gratitude can have that there are SO many people that feed  him and us, and I want to write a blog about that.  I want to hear other people's uncensored thoughts about those people they feel fed them when they were hungry. When I think of my own life, I know there are so many moments of being fed. I could make a list blog, but doesn't it maybe feed others' souls when they hear gratitude stories, which reminds them of the table of plenty that is prepared also for them? 

For me, I imagined the joy of floating in the pool  with my close friends (I only risk being in a bathing suit in front of close friends), or watching from the football or basketball or baseball bleachers, or manning the football concession stand, or coaching volleyball, or sitting in the lounge chair at my parents---- sharing the story of those people and moments that fed us. 

We have these moments of gratitude that suddenly grasp our hearts and make them smile, but do we express them?  Do we release the caged bird to sing or the fluttering butterfly to share their beauty?  Do we release those words in our heart to describe how someone fed us a morsel or a full course meal that filled our  soul?   As I reiterated to my friend Michael Linser yesterday, the power of the song he chose to share with his school the other day was in its words---"It's all about the words!"

I  may just make that wordy list for a few blogs, but really I would like to hear yours.  If you cannot figure out how to comment with your words of being fed at the bottom on my blog by choosing anonymous (be sure to leave your name after your writing), then leave your words on FB or a message on FB or even an email to me.  Your words may just feed someone else.  What menu we would be creating. A place of filling food choices of thankful.

Writing these no-calorie, gluten free, organic words may just be what you need to fill you up today.  And certainly they will be a delectable dessert to me. Let's have our cake and eat it too!

Burp and thank you ahead of time. ---Cherie
http://theplaidguy.files.wordpress.com/2012/06/happy-baby-eating-a-chocolate-cake.jpg




Comments

Anonymous said…
Cherie,
Our boys have been friends quite a few years now. Their group of friends seems to be pretty unique and actually a rare commodity these days. When Lane got injured last season is when it became very apparent to me how much of a brotherhood their group truly is. They all felt it on and off the field. They never abandoned him not for a second. They carried him around and never left him behind. But it went even further than just the boys. All of you parents were concerned and watched over him like one of your own. You brought him cards and gifts. The bond our sons share has created a parental bond as well. Their friendship has became contagious to all of us. When any one of them hurts or has something wonderful happening, I feel it genuinely in my heart. Sometimes when I think of the past year, tears well up and I feel so touched. I love them all like they are my own. God Bless Friendships that are as special as our boys have.
Your friend,
Lori
Unknown said…
Cherie,
Given the negativity of my childhood, the influences of those other homes of my friend have left me silent and overwhelmed even today as I read your post. Most of them never knew that much about my home because I never talked much then. So with an open heart, they where how I survived my childhood. They gave me acceptance when I needed it. They gave me a sense of value as a person. They where there when my world was black with the sense of failure. They showed me that there was a world out there beyond the life I was living. I learned that if I could just live long enough to leave that world behind, where was a place waiting for me on the other side of the emptiness. They where the one who introduced the Lord to me and that has made all the difference in the world. Only 2 of us kids, out of 6, has managed to escape out of that negativity. I watch a third one try so hard to rise about it all. My heart breaks for her silently as I watch her struggle. Her views are quite different than my own as the negativity infects her very thoughts and flows out her mouth like a never ending river. It infects the mind and thoughts of her children and those around her too. I see the pain in her eyes as she mentally pounds on the walls of the box that is her world and can't get out. Help is lost on her because she doesn't listen or put into action the advice she gets from anybody. So negativity continues to infect and destroy her inside. So here's to the wonderful people who has shared their lives with me and helped me see past my troubles. This vulnerability that you worry about is a scary place. It the fear of taking down the mask of what you think others are supposed to see you as and be the real person you are. If more people would embrace it they could be free of the world of emptiness and false expectations.
Nice post,
Angela
Unknown said…
My free-associating with your blog--I thought about the moment of realization when Maude was born. How much I completely and totally loved her and realized that this is what my parents felt about me. I don't think I was able to comprehend the intensity of their love for me until I was falling into line as a parent myself. With that wave of recognition, not only did I feel a deep sense of gratitude, but I could also feel how much they really enjoyed being parents. All of the aches and vexations of being a parent, totally housed in a massive cathedral of joy. I am grateful for my parents as well as for my child who made me one.
Anonymous said…
Yum. Being fed = experiencing a place where we are wanted, where we are cared for, and where we feel comfortable and safe. Delicious, but terrifying. Absolutely terrifying. I cry reading those words. I have wanted nothing more. NOTHING MORE. But I never learned 'eating' was a good thing. I never learned how to 'eat.' 'Food' was something I learned not to go near. If I 'ate,' bad things happened. If I got caught 'eating,' bad things happened. I learned how to starve myself. Believing I was wanted, cared about and safe was dangerous, naïve, and a lie. Oh, I envied those who knew how to feast, who knew a different truth. It was foreign to me. Famine was my world. It was my creed. At almost 50 years old, I am just beginning to learn to feed myself. Starvation is a hard habit to break. But I am one of the lucky. My partner has 'fed' me for years as he has waited patiently for me to learn to 'feed' myself and to partake of his love. We both wanted me to realize I was wanted, cared for and safe. Misery is an untenable condition. I used to resent how easy love was for him. I tried to push him away so many times. I still catch myself doing so. To let it in that I am wanted, cared about, and safe with him is to toy with the boogey-man, to ask for nightmares back, to be prepared to let go my internalized self-loathing and befriend my monster. When I was really tiny, those around me didn't mean to pass on that hating myself was the way to stop being hurt over and over again, but I learned that to hate myself was the only real safety. Now I know a different truth. Now I risk. Now I walk into the world and let the gift of birds, butterflies, moths, and my loving partner seep into my being and nourish it. I am eating. I tremble at the transgressions. Trembling is my life. Marvelous love is possible. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yKzVle9eTrs
Anonymous said…
I forgot to sign that. Ooops. Chrissy McClarren