Dinner

A few months ago, I had a friend who was having a difficult time with a difficult situation.  Of course, I didn't know this at the time - she hadn't shared anything with me.  But I felt a nagging feeling that I needed to do something.  So, in the true stereotypical Mormon fashion, I brought her dinner.  I even said to her when I dropped it off, "I know this [bringing you dinner] is so cliché, but I really felt like I wanted to do something for you."  She thanked me, and then we had a good talk.

A couple of weeks later, she said to me, "You know when you said that bringing me dinner was cliché?  It was actually the nicest thing you could do for me.  I was really feeling like I wanted someone to take care of me, and in that very moment, you did.  It was much more than a dinner for me." 

Fast forward to this last weekend: We had some friends invite us over for a goodbye dinner on Saturday night.  I was so looking forward to visiting with them.  But late Friday night, Kaitlyn started throwing up.  A couple of hours later, I followed suit, followed by Ethan shortly after.  It was a miserable night for all of us (Christian too - he took care of throwing up kids all night while I was sick).  I texted Melissa that morning and told her we would not be able to come to dinner after all.  She texted back and asked if she could bring the food over anyway.  That evening, her husband and daughter (who is Aidan's best friend) brought over homemade egg rolls, rice, and cheesecake, and a chicken pot pie "so you can have dinner for another night taken care of." 

After a day of throwing up and recovering, I swear those egg rolls were the best thing I have ever eaten.

Then Sunday night, Aidan started throwing up.  Soon after, Christian followed suit (it didn't matter that I was disinfecting as we went along.  It was pretty much inevitable that everyone in the house would catch this dumb sickness).  So yesterday was a blur of sickness, cleaning, laundry, and high anxiety.  (Wouldn't you be anxious if two weeks before you are moving across the country, you are waist high in laundry and vomit?)  So, last night for dinner I made the chicken pot pie.  I pulled the aluminum foil off of it to put it in the oven, and carved into the crust were the words, "We'll Miss You!"  I started crying right then and there.  It was exactly what I needed at that time.

You see, it was much more than a dinner to me.

(I'll miss you too, Melissa!)