Freeing Me- continued

This week I will continue to post excerpts from "FREEING ME". Please leave a comment and share your first memory of food with us!

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I have a fear of water, mainly large bodies of water such as lakes and oceans. I don’t foresee me ever taking a cruise. When I am flying over the ocean, I pretend to sleep. My fear is simply that I don’t know how to swim well, and I am afraid of what is in the water. With that being said, it fascinates me to watch National Geographic’s shows about the ocean and sharks. When the fishermen lower the big chunk of tuna or “chum” into the water to lure the sharks, I am fascinated to watch the frenzy that inevitably takes place. It conjures up childhood images of potlucks at church! Most of us have been there before. People who never show up for church unless there is food come in droves to a potluck. You better hope you're not the person to grab the last piece of chicken!

I grew up with six siblings. We were a low-middle class family, (dad was a full-time pastor and full-time plasterer), with just enough money to make ends meet. Every year we grew a garden, raised chickens and goats. The garden supplied our vegetables, the chickens our meat and the goats our milk. Mom was a diehard advocate of the farmer’s food pyramid: meat, starch, fat, vegetables, grain, and desert. Every dinner included one of each! She taught all of us to cook from scratch (no boxes), and create a meal when there were only dandelion flowers, cornmeal and lard as resources.

With nine people eating at one table, food disappeared fast. The moment after the food was blessed; hands started grabbing. Anything left on the plates went in what we called a compost bowl and my oldest brother ate it (he really did!). A meal in my childhood family was a human version of National Geographic’s shark feeding; a feeding frenzy at the highest degree! Family dinner became the time that we planned and prepared for all day. When breakfast was over, we would think about dinner. What would we fix? Roast, potatoes, carrots, yeast rolls, gravy, green beans, and sweet tea? Should we fix baked chicken, corn on the cob with mashed potatoes, gravy, biscuits and sweet tea? Would desert be chocolate cake or apple pie? Maybe desert would be Lemon squares or brownies?

Dinner was the time of the day that we, as a family, gathered and talked about our day. Dad would tell funny stories from his childhood or his military days. We all had something to share and no one ran away as soon as they finished eating. We lingered to talk and pull the chicken off the bones, for a big pot of soup to be created in the near future. It was our time to connect as a family. Whatever that day had thrown at us, it didn’t matter during that time.

Family fellowship was not the only way we used food. When we felt scared, brokenhearted, excited, or felt any other emotion, we used food to mark the moment. Because dad was a pastor, there were many times that our family was verbally attacked for one thing or another. I wish I could say that our parents taught us to handle those attacks on our knees in prayer, but instead we would whip up a batch of chocolate chip cookies. When someone complained about something they didn’t like about the church, my sisters and I would resolve the issue in the kitchen with Mom at our side.

(excerpt from "FREEING ME-my story of freedom from emotional eating)