"You need a hobby." It's usually what we say to someone else when we see that they are overly enmeshed in their work. Somehow I recognized in myself a need for such an outlet. As a deacon in the Episcopal Church (on my way to becoming a priest) I serve as primary pastor of an inner city church. Inspiring work, deeply transformative and passionate work--it's also dangerously all-consuming. I need a hobby. I need to learn things that aren't in theology texts. I need to write something that isn't a sermon. And so . . . this blog.
Maybe this blog has lain dormant in me for years. I grew up on a farm. Spent my childhood summers hunting and fishing with my family. I've always loved food and the magic of transforming raw gifts into something that nourishes the body and salves the soul. It has taken immersion in the incremental, endless work of growing community in a broken and beautiful neighborhood for these multiple passions to rise up again and say, "Don't lose your balance, your center. Don't miss the main thing." These passions upwelling tell me: "God is the God of abundance, not scarcity."
I need to make space again for passion. Isn't that what we're really doing when we "get a hobby"? Maybe we're making room for our soul to stand up and stretch.
"Real food" does that for me--the finding, the harvesting, preparing and sharing. And so this blog is part testimony and part journey. It is my hope that it will arise from the convergence of my several passions: family, sustainable food, and the communal power of feeding one another. I don't pretend to have all the answers. I'm still figuring out what it means to live lightly on the planet and to love my companions well and deeply. I screw up regularly. And I'm continually inspired by those who, in providing food for others, echo that first image of creation--the breath of God brooding over the waters--those who seek to be co-creators with the God of reckless love.
