A Month with Mary and Martha – Day 12

When our son was in 7th grade, he began to invite his basketball teammates over to our house on game nights.  We only lived a block from the school and there was about two hours from the end of school to the start of warm-ups.  One day I looked out my kitchen window and saw twelve hungry 7th grade boys running through the back yard heading for my door.  It sent a moment of panic through me.  I opened the pantry and saw several boxes of mac and cheese.  Yes.  And the package of hotdogs in the freezer were the perfect complement to balance out the gourmet meal.  Hey, we’re talking about 7th grade boys here. 

Evidently, they were satisfied.  They kept coming back every game night for six years.  And I loved it.  I knew they were getting some nutrition (do you realize how much calcium is in mac and cheese?) and they were off the streets, safe and secure in my basement playing video games and spilling kool-aid on my carpet.  After that first night, I vowed I would be ready for those boys when they made a beeline to my door. 

I poured over the “cooking for a crowd” sections of my cookbooks.  I stocked my freezer with homemade cookies and cupcakes.  By the time those boys were seniors, I was making chicken breasts and special potatoes, lasagna and garlic bread, Swedish meatballs and Swiss steak.  Gone were the days of hot dogs on stale buns.  Nobody asked me to feed the team, but if they were going to be in my house, you better believe I was going to come through for my son and make his friends feel welcome.  Nobody asked me to provide four course meals, but I thoroughly enjoyed watching them scarf down heaping plates of protein and carbs.  They probably would have been just as content with peanut butter sandwiches and cheetos, but somewhere along the line, the tradition was established and who was I to stop it?  Besides, I discovered that, for me, feeding people = love.  I lived by the creed: “You come to my house, you eat whether you’re hungry or not!”

I admit, I burned out by the last basketball game of their senior year.  But I adored those boys and missed them terribly when they graduated. 

All this to say, Jesus was in Martha’s home.  If they had been in someone else’s house that day, I just bet Martha would’ve been right there with Mary.