“THE MINISTRY OF CHEESE”

Last night, I ate this entire plate of cheese and crackers—and then went back for more. I have a tendency to eat my feelings, yes, but this cheese was different.

This cheese arrived on my doorstep. A friend had seen it at ALDI, knew I loved it, and took it upon herself to buy some and drop it off.

What my friend didn’t know was that for a few days I’d been feeling unseen. Disconnected. Forgotten. Like relationships meant more to me than to others. Not wanting to slide into self-pity, I began to talk to God about it. To tell him my feelings of loneliness and hurt. To tell him the lies I was tempted to believe. To ask for strength and love to keep giving—even if I got nothing back. I steeled myself in the knowledge that God was enough.

Then came the cheese.

Eight ounces of white-cheddar-cranberry goodness never tasted so much like love—which is why I could not stop eating. Each bite was filled with presence—a tangible reminder of how intertwined our need for God and for each other is. How the earthly and the eternal overlap in ordinary things.

Sometimes communion looks like bread and wine, but other times, presence manifests itself as cheese and crackers.

And the ministry of cheese is just as sacred.

When we show up, even in isolation, to extend tangible reminders of love for each other, the most common items transform into sacrament. They take on spiritual meaning and connect us to a kingdom outside ourselves. They remind us of who we are and who God is and how much we need each other.

Right now, love we can hold in our hands is crucial to our connectedness. When we cannot be physically present, we can let ordinary things stand in our place. We can

• Consider how our people like to be loved (albeit cheese, a cup of coffee, a deck of cards, embroidery floss, or the latest novel).

• Pay attention to our compassionate impulses (don’t dismiss the most fleeting thought of love).

• Show up when we are not expected (of course, six feet apart).

While physically distanced, we do not have to stop pursuing a life of presence. Instead, as Brother Lawrence urged, we can make it our business to do "little things for the love of God”* and for each other.

* from the second conversation of The Practice of the Presence of God.

Did you miss the first part of the “Pursuing Presence in Isolation” series? START HERE