We had breakfast for supper. It’s just my favorite. Not brunch, which can be fancy and classy. Full on breakfast: hashbrowns, apple cinnamon pancakes, scrambled eggs with leeks, tomatillos and cauliflower. I think what I love most about breakfast for supper is that you can feed an absolute army with very little work. It just so happens, whenever we do make breakfast for supper, that someone calls me, while I’m just whipping things up, musing about what they should make, or reflecting on their exhausting day, perfectly thrilled to last minute drop all and come by for pancakes. Today’s call came from my sister, whom you all know that I love and adore and don’t see enough. So IronSister and IronStomach(haha just kidding Craig) came by. We laughed at my silly kids, ate pancakes, and let the dishes sit for much longer than normal. I just feel very grateful today. Grateful for family, grateful for friends, grateful for pancakes.
I’ve seen a lot of brokenness this week. Lots of people I love with broken hearts, broken lives, broken dreams. They won’t be broken forever. We reach out, and are surrounded. We hold hands, and are supported. We join each other at the table, share a meal, share our brokenness. And suddenly it doesn’t seem quite so hopeless, quite so lonely. And we heal.
I write about these things because I know that in the midst of the bills and busyness and lunches to make and rush hour traffic, we sometimes forget: that if we are broken, and of course we all are, that our table might just be the one that someone else needs to sit at. Today you sit at mine. Tomorrow I’ll sit at yours. Sometimes….we just need pancakes.