Weight, Weight! Don't tell me.

I have constantly been a little on the plump side of a size 10, but I could always carry it off. A woman just knows when she's cute, even at an older stage of life, but the past three years have been a little rough on my ego as well as my body. The only thing that keeps my lungs a-pumping is a heavy and constant dose of prednisone. Life saver it may be, but it has caused me to have cataracts in both my eyes, erosion of my teeth, skin that bleeds if I just touch it and sleep deprivation. The all time worst of these side effects, as far as I am concerned, is a thirty pound weight gain and a face that always reminds me of a big moon pie.

I just received news from my doctor that the diagnosis I thought would be the end of my lung problems and, ultimately, my weight problems was not to be. I have a condition that can only be helped by heavy and constant doses of prednisone. Okay, I won't look like Susan Sarandon when I'm 65, but do I have to look like Orson Wells? I still feel like Susan Sarandon.

I know people will believe that because I love to cook, I eat everything I make. I certainly look like a two fisted eater. I am not. My joy in cooking is to make food other people love to eat, and then keep asking them if they would like a second helping. The more they want - the happier I am. My wonderful son-in-law never says much about my cooking. He doesn't have to. He takes serving after serving. No wonder I love this boy so much.

As I've searched my soul recently, I think what I really love is people. Cooking is the excuse to have them near. When we lived in Maine, we set aside one Sunday a month not to have people over in our home for lunch or dinner. We needed some time to our selves. But, since we have moved to the south, it is harder to get together with folks than you would ever believe. Most everyone down here has family or life-long buddies, and, if they do eat with outsiders, it's usually at an Appleby's or someplace like that. Apparently, a man's home really is his castle here, and he surrounds it with a mote and hungry alligators. I am sure it's just because everyone is so busy today, but I am a pretty good cook.

A few days ago a girl friend of mine offered to come to my house. I was so surprised I said, "What? Do you mean it? She did. We shared nothing to eat or drink. She didn't want it. She wanted to spend time with me. We laughed and talked and acted silly - just the way I like it. If I could have, I would have offered her my larder, my purse, my home to show her how much I appreciated her time. I hated to let her leave without at least a cup of tea, but she said no.

I may grow bigger and bigger no matter how little I eat or how much I walk. There may be no list or line of folks waiting to taste my cooking, but it seems strange to me that God would give us gifts that no one wants. Maybe there's more to me than my Dutch oven. Maybe I have gifts that people do want and I just need to stop looking at the scale long enough to find them.