In one church it was meals,
prepared and frozen
to be shared with those in need.
Food was handed out at the door,
or taken to where it was needed.
In another church it was casseroles,
brought to families
whose strength was consumed
by illness or disaster.
Small gestures, these,
little hairs on the roots
of community, reaching into the soil,
drawing the nutrients of earth.
When we sing together,
share a meal together,
make soup together,
the hairs on the roots
reach out then, too,
nourishing us in ways beyond the ways
we may think we know.
The dark soil is full of nutrients.
We feed without knowing.