I’m a country girl raised on comfort foods. And I have to tell you after 4 decades of city living, whenever I’m feeling out of sorts and need a soothing pick me up, off to the cupboards I go to see what I can whip up usually something without much-needed preparation. I’m a foodie for sure, but never would I win the grand prize in a cooking competition:)
Comfort foods much like the personal essay/story can serve up heaping spoons of warm cathartic healing. When I write or mentor from personal life experiences, I’m giving freely of my love in service of others. I retained my mother’s compassion for the less fortunate or voiceless as memories arise of how she’d often stop what she was doing in order to fry up a batch of fish for the ‘homeless’ man who routinely happened by the house because he had no one to offer to feed him. That man would eventually wander back the way he’d come, only now he’d have a full stomach and a cheerful air that came from knowing that somebody cared.
As I grew older, I wanted to do work that brought a smile or made a difference in the life of someone less equipped to face the world, like my mom did with that old man. Over thirty-five years of Nursing gave that to me. Life experiences, coupled with those remarkable skills afforded me the intuitive guidance of knowing how to use the touch of compassion and caring in my services to others.
The older I become, the more the ideology of comfort foods mesh with how I perceive my work. Perhaps, I’m destined to be that bridge where my mother’s compassion would end and mine would, without fanfare, begin. It’s not up for debate this gift, like comfort foods, warms my heart.
How would you categorize your creative gifts?