In the South, we digest life through the use of food. We punctuate major life events with a giant smorgasbord exclamation point!  We celebrate births with pastel petit fours and ice cream punch at showers.  In honor of graduations, we host barbecues in the backyard or high tea at the Ritz.  We take our guests out for meals in fancy steak houses.  Waiters wearing hip haircuts and cushy shoes serve us perfectly-cooked filet mignon.  Then comes the side dishes of garlic mashed potatoes and whole steamed asparagus drizzled with lemon and butter.  At weddings, we feed our guests plates of roast pork tenderloin, new potatoes and French mini green beans tied up like a bouquet to make them memorably appropriate.

After funerals, we do not know what to do to make things better so we just take food.  King Ranch Chicken Casserole.  A cheese tray filled with Gouda, Jarlsberg, Parmesan, and Brie.  Rum cakes and plates of double-fudge brownies.  We feed the bereft, even when they don't feel like eating.  We'll feed their guests, in that case.  The action of taking food becomes a balm for the spirit—theirs and ours.

Feeding people makes me feel better somehow.   If someone has lost a spouse or a parent, I may not be able to take the pain away, but I can let them know they are not alone.  I can invite them to the table and let them just "be" in a safe place.  

Our freezer is nearly always full.  It contains the secret ingredients that makes it possible to share joy, conversation, heal broken hearts, and to mark special occasions.   How blessed are we by that? 

If your family has special customs to mark events by, please post a comment to my blog.  I'd love to know.