As I sit at my desk in my office, the aroma of dinner is wafting tantalizingly around. Tonight is the last of our regular Wednesday night meals for this school year. The meals will resume in September, but I won’t be here to eat them.
Perhaps it’s the smell of pork loin and baked potatoes that is making me feel a bit of sentimental melancholy. After all, my family did not always eat dinner at these meals. Our busy schedules, plus Andy’s hour-ish commute from his office, meant that we often ate dinner at home on Wednesday night long after the dishes were done and put away at church. But I have always enjoyed walking around and talking with people on Wednesday nights. They ate, a captive audience, and I got to talk and connect with people. It is also the main time during the week that we welcome our neighbors who are in need of a free, hot meal. It’s a great time to see people.
In reality, it’s not the food I’ll miss. It’s the people. There are some lovely “hello’s” in my future, but, right now, pork roast smells like “goodbye.” And I am convinced that God is in every goodbye and every hello.
