Meal Train
Imagine you are walking through the woods. The sound of the leaves rustles as a light breeze moves through. You feel the firm yet occasionally uneven ground below your feet. The warmth of the sun filters through the canopy above you. Now imagine being on that same walk after a large boulder is strapped to your back. The rock is huge. It is heavy. Its edges are rough. It rubs and chafes against the skin of your back until it is raw. No matter how you shift it, the heavy stone is just that…heavy.
Suddenly that bumpy ground you’ve been meandering over becomes more difficult to navigate. The sun’s warmth now feels too hot as you work to carry the boulder. The breeze blows against you, requiring more energy as you push back against its once soothing presence.
We can apply this analogy to those facing grief on a daily basis. Our otherwise uneventful journeys through life suddenly become incredibly difficult as once normal variables become overwhelming. The pain, sadness, anger, and confusion of grief weigh us down to the point where the thought of taking one step forward on a previously comfortable path seems unbearable if not impossible.
Like Jodi’s family with Jorja, I remember in the early weeks after John died just trying to make it to “the next five minutes” each day. Our goal was to breathe and plan for the next five minutes of life, and once those five minutes passed, we would try to make it to the five minutes after those. Countless days were spent living minute to minute. Their sudden passings just made our entire world implode so trying to figure out what life looked like without them each day took a great deal of time and energy, more than we were capable of providing on many days. To plan for the little events of daily life, let alone execute them, was more than we could tolerate.
One of the countless acts of kindness bestowed upon Dave, Jodi, & Davis and Ethan, Owen and I was that of a meal train. Jodi’s friend Louise & my dear friend Kerri reached out to those within our professional, social and sports communities and for months we had fresh meals delivered to us on a regular basis. As grieving families, the gratitude we felt was immeasurable. It took every ounce of energy we had to get out of bed in the morning and face our new normal, while additionally loving and supporting each other in their own grief. The boulder we carried and still carry was and still can be at times paralyzing.
Having those weeks and months where friends fed us allowed us, to have one less concern each day. An otherwise-normal variable we would be able to cope with was taken over, allowing for more strength and focus on our grieving process. The meal train also allowed those in our Village to provide a tangible representation of their love. Loved ones often want to show their ongoing support through action, and the meal train is a practical yet meaningful way of doing that.
Signing up a bereaved family for a meal train is simple, yet so impactful. My only words of advice though…Remember that a person can only eat so much lasagna