about cooking and serving.

London received a stand alone dry erase easel/chalkboard do-dad from her grandparents for Christmas this year.

She loves that thing.

Frequent to-do lists appear there.  Stuffed animals’ names get put on long lists and directions for games the kids are playing show up frequently.  Every night there are messages on the board for me or for Kevin.  They usually involve questions about the food being served the next day at our home or requests for screen time or money making opportunities.

One day last week the request was, “Can I prepare all the meals one day next week?”

That wasn’t a request I really wanted to deny.

Can you blame me?

I told London she needed to make a detailed list of all the meals and of the ingredients each meal would require.  She did.  At our weekly grocery outing, we made the purchases.

And then glorious Monday arrived.  Goodness – why haven’t I thought of this idea?

Monday breakfast brought us homemade buttermilk biscuits, farm fresh scrambled eggs and tasty homemade berry bars.

The food was truly great.  But I loved that London handled the entire preparations herself.  I wasn’t even in the kitchen.  It was like a gift.  I had time to shower and type and fold laundry – and we all ate a hot breakfast.  I can promise you – that is not how a typical morning runs at our house.

London said, “Mom – I may not be able to complete all of my school today you know, because I’ll have to be cooking.”

I assured her that learning to cook, to provide sustenance for her family, to organize her day to be certain meals were prepared on time, to set the table and to clean the kitchen qualified as a very important kind of education all by itself.

She managed to fit in math and reading and our prairie primer work during the day.

Because she made lunch, Mosely and Bergen and I had extra time to work on their written narrations.  I also was able to do more laundry.  (We have non-overflowing baskets for a day – it was a miracle!)

At lunch we had homemade mac and cheese and fruit.

Seriously, I don’t know why I haven’t thought of this before.

By mid-afternoon, every Keigley was requesting, “Can I cook for a day?”

I think if I manage to ride this wave correctly, I could be out of kitchen duty and overloaded with free time.

I can picture it now – I’ll prop myself up with a good novel and begin demanding creme brulee frappuccinos to be served to me bedside.

For dinner we had guests and London carefully made her famed poh-tay-toe soup inspired by The Lord of the Rings novels.  It’s creamy and delicious.  Plus, she baked cornbread to serve along with it.

(And I forgot to take a picture!)

She calculated the time guests would be arriving so the food would be hot.  She set the table and took ownership of the presentation.

After her big day she and I chatted about the overall experience.  She said she learned a few things.

London learned that it’s disheartening when someone says they don’t care for something you spent a lot of time preparing.

She learned that sometimes you take on too much at once and have to readjust your plans.  She had wanted to make crescent rolls but after completing the potato soup preparations realized there would not be enough time for the dough to rise.  She had to be flexible and find a recipe with a shorter preparation time.

She learned that prepping and crafting three meals a day requires a commitment of time and you have to say no to playing games and such in order to fulfill your responsibilities.

She learned that doing a job well and offering a bit of yourself through the food you prepare is a gift and a rewarding experience.  That it feels good when people compliment your hard work and making food people love to eat brings her a sense of accomplishment.

It’s that sense of healthy pride (can I say that?) that I want to foster and encourage in the lives of our children.

The kind of good feeling that naturally occurs when you do a job well and you know it.

That’s a feeling I want my children to have, to recognize, to value.

Chase after that, I want to say, instead of the false highs and thin puffing up of yourself through your attire or hollow speech.

Do good things and feel good about yourself because of them.

You were created to create.

Not to be served, but to serve.

And when you do that – when you serve other people, when you give of yourself and your time and your talents – that naturally feels very pleasing.

It’s a feeling I think London felt today as she spent the day doing something that she genuinely enjoyed and that genuinely served our family so beautifully.

It’s a magical kind of thinking.  The kind of thinking that I’m crossing my fingers and hoping might just rescue my children from a life of selfishness and the dangerous American me-first mentality.

The only armor and defense I know to use myself against the weapons of self-serving and the ever-tempting victim mindset.

Do something for someone else.