OK, we'll admit it. It turns out our mothers were right -- about a lot of things.
But especially about food.
When we were kids, good food did make us feel better -- at least most of the time. Whether it was a breakfast of chilaquiles, a bowl of chicken soup or gumbo, a vat of spaghetti, or a plate of tandoori chicken or adobo, you could always count on Mom (in her favorite language), to say: "EAT UP, YOU'LL FEEL BETTER!!" Or "Eat! You'll need your strength."
You may not have known it at the time, but your mother was simply transferring to you some of the intergenerational wisdom she learned from her mother. And from her grandmother before that, and back to a primal time of community where people living close to one another supported one another and extended families passed on the rite of passage as to how to care for one another during difficult times.
Together, unbeknownst to you, your mother and her mother (or your father and his father) were training you in the time-honored tradition of bringing comfort food in time of illness or grief.
Amazingly enough, even as a child, you were being apprenticed into a consoling community that spans culture and custom, income and ethnicity. It's true. Good food does give us strength and sustenance. It also serves as a wonderful vehicle for providing support, a love-filled way of receiving comfort, and a solid bridge for promoting health and healing.
Comfort food consoles. It's as simple as that.
If you have a friend in need, the chances are that at some point, a home-cooked meal, marinated in love, will be 'just what the doctor ordered.' But before you drop off your culinary masterpieces on your unsuspecting friend, you may want to look at some of the following tips just in case you missed some of the details from that intergenerational wisdom transfer.
First: Many people worry about being a burden to family or friends. They might be embarrassed they need help. Perhaps they're more used to being a caregiver than a care-receiver. Maybe they don't understand that it is in giving that we receive, and it is in receiving that we give.
The first order of business may be for you to gently let your friend (co-worker, neighbor, family member, or fellow member of your faith community) know that you'd LIKE to prepare meals -- it's something you WANT to do. You might tell them how sorry you are that they're going through this right now, and how helpless you feel in the face of it. Let them know that in fact, it helps you to have something concrete to do -- like prepare and deliver food.
Ask before you act:
"What might be the best way I could pitch in and help? I have a few ideas I think might be helpful. For instance, I'd like to arrange to have meals delivered to your family a few nights a week -- or every other night. I'm hoping that will be helpful. But I'd really like to know what sorts of help YOU think might work best for you."
Then listen, both to the words and to the heart.
Your friend might not be able to accept at this time, and it doesn't mean the the offer isn't appreciated. The idea of having to interact with someone or organize something else might be the "one more thing factor" that pushes them over the coping edge. Imagine if you hadn't had a shower all day, had no make up on, unbrushed hair falling out of a scrunchy, eyes puffy from crying, had a ragged comfy sweatshirt on, complete with holes, and the doorbell rang. Would that be an ideal time to have a perfectly coiffed, newly showered, fully made up and fashionably dressed buddy show up with an armful of food?
To be honest, the food might sound fab but wouldn't be worth the perceived mandatory social interaction necessary to secure it. A person might be worried the house is a mess or that they might be expected to be a hostess to every person who shows up -- all the while caring for a sick loved one or actively grieving themselves.
Offer the option of having food delivered in a cooler out in front: no need for a door ring or an awkward "Hi, how's it going? Terribly, thanks for asking" interaction. No need for the caregiver/griever to feel appearance shamed or worried the damn of tears they've been holding back might burst because one look your compassion-filled eyes started the flood. Another idea is to have all food delivered to a family member or close friend of the family, and have that person deliver the meals and bring back casserole plates, etc.
Just offer a few options for food delivery: not too many because choices themselves are difficult. Accept a no answer, let them know you'll check in later. If the answer is yes, here are some things to consider:
Hopefully, these ideas will help you get started on implementing your grandmother's wisdom. But don't short-change your own ideas. Use your intuition. Give some thought as to what the best way might be to 'be a neighbor with heart' to this particular person at this difficult time in his or her life.
Be creative. And humble. Listen well. Offer help. Deliver kindness.
Get cooking!
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