Learn to cook

advice from my daughter

I love having adult children. I loved them when they were little too, but now that they are peers, a whole new world has opened up, namely that of learning from the people I raised. There’s nothing like it.

My five children range in age from 32 to 41. They are all married and have given me and Ben 13 grandchildren (so far). They (the children) (the grandchildren too, but I’m talking about the children here) are the most fun people I know. They are funny and smart and kind and witty and hard working, and the best times we ever have are when we are all together.

One son is my on-demand tech support and explainer of genius-level concepts, even though he laughs at my love for Apple products. He is so much like my father it’s both scary and wonderful. The other son is my personal trainer and the guy who, when I tried to take the trash out one day, told me to stop, then when I didn’t, he ran after me and picked me up with my legs dangling in midair—with the trash bag—until I put it down for him to take out. He has the muscles and the Sargent bossy gene.

One daughter has been an artist since birth and I had no idea what to do with that—me not having an artistic bone in my body. That was when I learned my own daddy was a lover of art (who knew?) and he stepped in and became her biggest cheerleader, taking her to museums and sending her old film cameras to practice with. How fitting that she was the photographer who captured this precious moment of Daddy and me dancing at my older son’s wedding.

Daddy, lover of art and dancing. October, 2013.

Another daughter runs her large family (six children) with such calm confidence it is inspiring. She did not learn that from me—she made her own way and it is beautiful to watch. When she was a little girl, she was always in the kitchen with me, doing and learning. At Thanksgiving she taught me how to make a lattice-top pie. I love this stage of life.

Homemade cherry pie with sourdough lattice crust. We are serious about our pie.

The children are phenomenal parents and picked amazing spouses and have developed their unique skills and abilities into concrete ways to serve others. If you can’t tell, I’m a little proud.

My middle daughter, Leah (you can also find her here), aside from being a professional violinist, has become an incredible cook. With a husband who played defensive tackle for Eastern Kentucky University (in other words, he also has the muscles), she cooks family-size recipes just for the two of them. When her aunt asked her, “What do you do with all the leftovers?” she replied, “Oh, we don’t have leftovers.”

Leah’s tagline on Instagram is “Food = the sixth love language” and I wholeheartedly agree, especially when I go visit and spend days at her table.

Recently, Leah exhorted her followers to learn to cook. At 36, she has already seen a lot in life, and she’s gained some wisdom about how to deal with it. Here’s what she said:

Learn to cook.

Learn to cook because it saves you money, it’s healthier, and it’s fun to host dinners.

But also learn to cook because hospitality is more important than hosting.

Learn to cook because food is ministry.

Learn to cook because mamas have new babies, and they need dinner.

Learn to cook because someone is grieving, but it’s their child’s birthday this weekend, and they can’t think straight enough to figure out a cake.

Learn to cook because hurting hearts live in bodies that still need to be nourished.

Learn to cook so you don’t have to ask “what can I do?” because you’ll already know what to do.

Learn to cook because people need to be loved, not just sent a gift card.

Loving people takes real time, real effort, and it’s inconvenient. And it’s worth it. So learn to cook.

A nephew’s birthday cake in process.

We’ve been members of a lot of churches over the years with all our military moving, but the one we are currently part of is by far the most demonstrative when it comes to cooking. One lady runs a group message and arranges meals for everyone in need.

Funeral? We make a meal. Pam puts out the details of when the meal will take place and how many need to be fed, and ladies start volunteering to make dishes. Have a baby? You get at least a week of meals. Loved one sick? You get meals. Widows and widowers get meals and fellowship periodically. Awana workers appreciation, men’s conference, ladies’ banquet—all meals. The day we were moving into the parsonage, one lady (who didn’t even know us) showed up at lunchtime with a bag full of fried chicken and after a five-hour drive with a moving van, I could have cried at the kindness.

Remember when Elijah was beside himself with stress and exhaustion in 1 Kings 19? He had just been through a God-orchestrated famine, faced the king (Ahab), and proved to the prophets of Baal that God was the true God and their gods were worthless—right before he slew all those false prophets. Now Jezebel was after him.

Do you remember what God did? He sent an angel with food and drink. Then Elijah took a little nap, and the angel showed up again with another meal, and the Bible says, “And he arose, and did eat and drink, and went in the strength of that meat forty days and forty nights unto Horeb the mount of God.” To someone who is in distress, a home-cooked meal goes a long way.

No matter what your life circumstances are, you need food, and not just because you’re Baptist. As Leah said, “hurting hearts live in bodies that still need to be nourished.” Our bodies house our emotions, so the first step to feeling better is taking care of the body. Cooking is loving people.

So learn to cook.