Ever so often my mother cooks traditional African food which she shares with my brother and his family. One day her daughter-in-law told her how much her son (my nephew) enjoyed it. My nephew is now fourteen and growing taller and thinner. He's desperate to put on weight. Mum thought the traditional dishes would help him put on weight. So a few months back mum offered to cook some traditional African food for him every Saturday.
Yesterday I teased my mother about this.
"You do realise that because of your promise, you're going to have to stick around for at least another 20 years to cook for him?"
"Well, I did promise."
"Yes, you did. What if he decides to have kids? Your grandchildren will need you to cook for them," I said. "Come to think of it, I reckon you're here for at least another 40 years."
"I pray God gives me the strength so I can continue preparing food he loves," mum said. "I enjoy cooking for him."
I can so relate to my mother's prayer. I remember once I was limping home after pulling a nerve and I prayed for help to get me home. On the corner of our street I saw this woman who wanted my help to carry her bag. Logic dictates that when you're in agony you don't have the energy to help someone let alone lift a heavy bag. Yet I trusted in Love and was able to kill two birds with one stone; Love supplied the energy to heal me and to help a friend in need.
Cooking for my nephew is giving my mother a purpose. I know she looks forward to going shopping for the ingredients and preparing the food for he and his parents. Sometimes, she even shares some food with her neighbour who appreciates her food. I know Love will continue to provide all the resources my mother needs to love.
Love is life.
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