Today at lunch I finished the last of Toni’s cheesy potatoes. And I have to admit I’m sad. Yes, I confess that potatoes and I might have an unhealthy relationship (and throw in some cheese? shoot.). But it is more than that.
The last several weeks have been a revolving door of illness punctuated by travel, solo parenting, and final deadlines on my book. Somehow I managed to get sick twice, both times having a fever that lasted three days or more. We were surviving. Yes, the kids watched too much TV, and the pantry looked like it had been raided by wolves. But every day, people were fed, kids had clean underwear, and we got where we needed to be. I think.
When Toni’s text came through, I hesitated. Instead of instantly replying YES in all caps, I bit my lip as I re-read the words: May I bring you a meal this week?
I don’t know why I do this—this reluctance to hold out my hands to what is good. But so often in these moments, it’s easy for me to want to feign independence. To appear stronger or more put-together than the haven’t-put-on-a-bra-in-three-days mess I really am. There is a lot to unpack in that pause, and when it comes down to it, I think I have let the terrible twins of shame and pride work their way into my ability to receive.
But over the years, I have also learned that part of being in relationships is learning to let ourselves be loved. Reciprocity relies on our common need. It requires us to become people who not only show up but also open the door, even if that means your friend is greeted by five days of dirty laundry, dog-hair tumbleweeds on the carpet, and piles of kids school papers sliding onto the floor.
I said yes, and Tuesday night, Toni and her daughter Alex showed up with arms full of pulled pork and cheesy potatoes and two pans of cinnamon rolls for the following day. (Toni’s cinnamon rolls are legendary, and our family lives for them.) And let me tell you: I will never, ever downplay love that arrives in aluminum foil. Every bite has been a gift.
So today, when I heated up the last of the potatoes, I got a little sad—not for the lack of something good to eat, but the end of a meal that reminded me how good it is to be held.
Would you like to read with us?
A short reminder that in November, our Human Together Book Club is reading Wintering: The Power of Rest and Retreat in Difficult Times by
. Book club access is for paid subscribers, but I don’t want money to be a barrier. If you’d like to participate and paying isn’t an option, simply email me (sarah@sarahewestfall.com) with the subject line “sponsorship,” and we’ll figure it out (no questions asked).
I so relate to this battle with my pride/shame for needing help and the total relief it is to accept it. I am so glad that you got cheesy potatoes and I hope you all feel better soon!
I am also a potato fan. So much so, that I have a potato stuffie.