Tuesday February 16 2016  A PLATE OF MIRACLES

The mystery of life never ceases to amaze me.  So much we do not know.  So much we cannot comprehend.  So much to wonder about. So much to explore.  Every day is a mystery to me.  One of those mysteries being the food that is on my plate, day after day.  Not only is it a mystery to me, but a miracle as well.

Do a little true-life pretend time with me.  Pretend you are sitting down to my lunch that I ate today.  On your plate is a wonderful salad.  This salad consist of butter lettuce, and a handful of food from a bagged salad purchased from Costco with pieces of kale, broccoli, Brussels sprouts, cabbage, chicory, dried cranberries, roasted pumpkin seeds, and poppy seed dressing.  Added to the salad are cherry tomatoes, baby carrots, ¼ of an avocado, and diced fresh beets.  Beside the salad is a wonderful slice of chicken breast, also purchased from Costco.  Included on the plate is a multigrain casserole consisting of barley, brown rice, hard winter wheat, and wild rice.  Included in this recipe is olive oil, fresh mushrooms, carrots, onions, garlic, black beans, a can of corn, soy sauce, Monterey Jack Cheese and fresh parmesan cheese.   Also on the plate are three beautiful strawberries (from Costco) and a small ripe nectarine from Aldi’s.

All that on one plate.  We grab our bags of greens, our pre-roasted chicken, a big spoon of the homemade rice casserole, fresh strawberries from their tidy little box, and pick a ripe nectarine off the counter.  And there is your simple lunch.

Have you ever thought about how many different people have been involved to make it possible to sit down to such a feast?  Let’s look at the rice dish for starters.  Four different grains.  Probably all of them grown in a different region, different state, and possibly even different countries.  Think of the fields barren in the winter waiting for spring plowing.  Someone had to plow the land.  Someone had to plant the grain, till it, harvest it, clean it, and package it.  Not to even mention all the people it took to build the machinery to do the above tasks.  Someone else had to think of the design for the equipment to do all that work.  Some other factory produced all the parts.  Another factory had to assemble them.  Someone had to make the plastic bags to hold the grain and somewhere the bags had to labeled with the contents and information of calorie count, etc.  And someone else had to market it.  Then there are the packers, and loaders, and truck drivers, and train cars to transport across country, and dock workers at the supermarket, stock people, and the shopper.  And that is for a bag of rice or barley or just name all the other ones available.  And what about the canned corn?  Where do the cans come from to hold the corn?  Who makes the cans?  Who designed the sophisticated equipment to actually produce them?  More people, more hands on, more intricate details of marketing and delivery before it is put on the grocery shelf.  And that is even without mentioning the farmer, the land, the toil, the long season of hot summer sun, the harvesters, and on and on and on. 

Do you see where I am going with this?  What about the fresh onions and carrots in a Wisconsin February?  What about the garlic cloves?  And what about the olive oil?  Think of the millions of olives that must be grown to create the abundance of olive oil for the world.  And where does it come from?  Mine comes from Italy.  Do you ever imagine the acres and acres of ancient olive trees that live and produce for over 300 years?  Acres and acres of land.  And the ships it takes to transport it across the oceans, not to mention in detail all those who had anything to do with building the ship, working on the ship, and so on… And think of the soy sauce.  Little teaspoons of it used to create so much flavor.  What is it?  Where does it come from?  How many people are involved in bringing that to market?  What about the bottle makers?  The box makers, the packagers, the insulation needed?

Oh, and don’t forget the strawberries.  In February no less.  Do you ever think about the back breaking labor it takes to grow them?  And who are they that are doing that grinding labor so we can go to the store and purchase them in small, beautifully displayed, plastic boxes? 

And we sit down at the table without a second thought of where and how and who went into bringing us the fruits of their labor.  And I wonder if they can afford to buy what they work so hard to grow.  When I sit down to eat I marvel at the sheer beauty of food.  God created such an amazing plethora of shapes and sizes and fragrances and tastes, colors, and varieties.  Do we even pause to say thank you?  Have you ever thought to ask God to bless each one who had a part in making it possible for us to have such an abundance and such a variety at our finger tips?

I know I have probably said enough in past blogs for my relatives to think I am bonkers, so here I go again, giving them even more fodder.  Several years ago before I had my foot operated on I could barely walk.  And going to the grocery store was the greatest pain ever.  Everything was so spread out and the store was so big.  Dave did most of the shopping during those two or three years when my feet were so bad.  Every time I had to go grocery shopping my spirit grumbled inside.  One day, it was as if God tapped me on the shoulder in the produce department.  The thoughts that came pouring into me went something like this: “Take a look around you.  What do you see?  This is My bounty prepared for you.  You did not have to grow these green beans.  You did not have to toil for these strawberries.  My whole world is at your door and you do not see the beauty that surrounds you.  You see not the labor involved, the toil, the heartache for some.  I bless you with choices and you complain.  Rather than grumble, give thanks when you walk through these doors.  In your heart give thanks and pray for blessings over all those who are involved in making this food available.”

Oh man!  Did that hit me right between the eyes.  It sobered me up a bit.  It made my pain seem minimal compared to what it took for all the workers, people like you and I, as well as migrant workers, farmers, and truck drivers, to bring to market all that was available to me on the shelves and in the bins.  My attitude changed that day.  I went home and told Dave about the experience.  It was an eye opener for me.  That must have been about 14 years ago.  I remember the timing because I was still doing film photography at that time and was laid up for several months following the surgery.  Well, going to a grocery store has never again been a chore to me.  It was as if blinders were taken off my eyes. 

When I go to other areas of the country one of my favorite things to do is to go into local grocery stores and walk through the produce section just marveling at all it is stocked with.  When you do that all across the country it gives you a perspective that it isn’t just your little (or big) neighborhood market that is full to overflowing, but all across the United States it is that way.  It gave me perspective as to how much our earth produces just for our country.  It made me grateful for all the machinery, tools, trucks, paper products, can makers, growers, harvesters, packagers, factories, and most of all for God, who created the earth to grow the food.  Never again do I grumble.  I just walk through the aisles thanking and praising God for all He has provided for my enjoyment and my delight.  And because of that, I try diligently to not be wasteful. 

JUST A SIMPLE LUNCH?  I SEE IT AS A PLATE OF MIRACLES.

 

A PLATE OF MIRACLES

By Kathleen Martens

February 16, 2016

 

One simple plate

What will it hold?

In just one salad

What story is told?

 

Whose hands have touched

The soil of earth,

That our plate

Has not dearth?

 

What back has labored

That we might eat,

In the comfort of home,

On a comfortable seat?

 

One grain of rice

Added to millions,

Will feed the multitudes

Into the billions.

 

Who picked the fruit

That we so enjoy?

Regardless the season

Was it man or boy?

 

Who picked the berries

And gently packed

Each one with care

That we buy off the rack?

 

And the potato

Hand set in soil.

That we might buy

To bake or boil?

 

So much beauty

We arrange on our table,

Without considering

Those who were able

 

To bring to market,

To deliver so near.

And we should give thanks

For that which took a year.

 

Perhaps we should pause,

And children should be taught,

That without the workers

No food could be bought.

 

Never take for granted

That which is available

It took hundreds of hours

To make it salable.

 

Good night and God bless you!