Malnutrition and starving for a taste of the real food.

I have been away from my blog posts for a while.  But every day in my life is a piece of the education I need to teach me about the love of my Savior and the power of the fast.  Through this education, I find myself looking at everything through the eyes of fasting and the blessings promised through the action and focus on the giver of all good gifts, even Jesus Christ.

I spent a week in Paradise (just south of Logan, Utah).  Walks in the rolling hills, birds singing in massive symphonies, literal babbling brooks, trips into Logan to eat at Subway, the removal of 2 pieces of metal in a back tire, oatmeal in all its glory, and best of all, communion around the sacred table of the Willis family; I was the recipient of every blessing possible.  Given to watch the growth and progression of every member of this loving family, I spent the majority of my time in the kitchen, helping to prepare the meals for this little army.  The greatest event and energy was the gathering of the family at meal time.

Feeding 13 people 3 times a day is a feat I did not sign up for, which makes me only an infrequent participant, and certainly only a qualified observer.  This kind of daily provisional responsibility fell upon parents who were obviously more qualified than I for a task this size.

The daily food gave much to the sustenance of the family, but the most valuable nutrition was not prepared over the gas stove.  Every child capable of helping became responsible for preparation of a meal for the day; clean up became the responsibility of a different child.  All came to the table providing a part of their heart, and sharing their skills, gifts, and contribution according to the family chore chart.

I participated at times with my own brand of contribution to the meals, which were sufficient and full of nutrition, but I wanted more color and flavor than the daily fare.  Apples, raisins, and cinnamon I added to the large pot of oatmeal.  Salsa received mangoes, pizza got 3 kinds of cheese, and the pasta primavera would receive as many wonderful vegetables available in the spring from the grocery.

Sitting at the table each meal provided an opportunity to give thanks to the God who provided this feast.  All were invited to participate in the prayer on the food.  The opening of the prayer was offered by designation, and someone was also invited to close the prayer, but all were invited to add their voice in the middle of the prayers.  Songs of gratitude, words almost unintelligible from a wee 5 year old son, tentative words from budding teenagers; all were a part of the prayer of thanksgiving.

What does all this have to do with fasting?  I thought of the immense blessings that were mine by sitting at this table.  There wasn't an open space at the large table, yet it was obvious that there would always be space made available for any stranger who needed a place to seat and receive nourishment. I felt as the prayers were offered on the food that the Savior provided for us that he would certainly come to the table providing an even greater feast than we had prepared for ourselves.  We were all recognizing Him in our petitions for the meal.  The invitation to have Christ join us was offered in earnest by all who prayed before the beginning of partaking of the food.

Isn't this what anyone would seek for in the mental preparation of the fast? Thinking of Christ the entire time the meal was being prepared offered a way for me to realize that I was indeed desirous of the addition of the Sower of the Seed, the Provider of Providence, indeed, the author and finisher of my faith to come and join me at this meal, yes, each precious moment was an occasion for a certain communal sacrament.  It felt like a sacred meal in a sacred place.  I felt as if I were in a most sacred space.

Fasting has become an everyday occurrence now for me.  I look at the food I am eating, which is not always something relegated to something purchased at a market.  The food of words, of holy writ has fed many a massive crowd.  Although we did not have 5,000 at our table, it was a miracle nonetheless. We definitely had our own form of manna from heaven.  We feasted on the word.  We pondered upon Christ as we worked out in the open.

I believe I am learning something so great and magnificence by desiring to understand the fast.  The food portion that we leave behind is minuscule compared to the feast we are supplied when we invite the Savior into our lives.  It is a feast without description.  Words cannot be spoken or written to explain it.