23.05
Foreward
To eat together: if you asked me how I felt about it last year, I would have probably not considered this activity a blessing or a joy. Even in past times of cheerful gatherings over food, I don’t think I ever took the time to recognize the importance of eating with one another. I had always struggled with eating—from being extremely underweight when I was younger to being overweight in high school—eating was an activity that often brought confusion from the mixed messages of "you don’t eat enough, eat more" to "stop eating, you eat too much." I often found myself stressed and insecure whenever I had to eat with family or friends and was always conscious of how much I ate or did not eat. This caused me to hide snacks and food in my room and secretly eat alone in the comfort of my room throughout high school. In college, I found myself falling into bad eating habits yet again, often eating irregularly or skipping meals. When working on projects, I would easily go over ten to twelve hours without eating, or even a couple of days without eating properly—the aftermath of it crashing down in uncontrollable binge eating and vomiting.
I dreaded eating with others—it felt like homework. I sat through meals, constantly looking at my watch and scrambling to finish eating as soon as I could so I could leave, or making excuses to end the meal time quickly. I feared how others might judge my eating behavior. As a result, I battled a growing, unhealthy social anxiety around the dinner table. Mealtime conversations only exacerbated my discomfort.
Returning to my college campus in August 2022 for my senior year, I was socially and emotionally drained. I was angry with myself and frustrated by my inability to become who I had hoped to be—a thriving art student whose identity was firm in the culmination of projects; and someone who was lively and compassionate. With a little to hope for, I set my eyes on graduation and a bearable senior year. I expected an aloof year in solidarity, stripped of joy. But God had a different plan for me.
Shamelessly returning to God beginning of my senior year in search of answers and comfort, I became a recipient of the love and peace that overwhelmed my heart, lifted my past pains, and renewed my heart with joy. Over my final year in Rhode Island, I have been incredibly blessed to witness and understand what it means to be fully known and loved by God.
I was lost in a moment
A glimmer in time
Like a child chasing shadows
My back to the light
I was lost in a fog till You caught my eye
Through the smoke and the mirrors
A glimmer of life I know there's a place I belong
Where I'll see the fullness of love
A child face to face with my God
Lost in Your awesome wonder
While I wait I will not be afraid
My faith will remain all the same
My hope in the things not yet seen
Found in the greatest of these
I know that You love me
Your love never fails
(Lyrics from “Glimmer in the Dust”, Hillsong United)
In retrospect, I had chased shadows and tried to fill my emptiness with the things of the world—these never failed to leave me more broken, resentful, and lost. As my heart hardened, I became increasingly defensive whenever anyone encouraged me to read the Bible or pray. I felt consumed by my own anxiety and struggled to find my identity in the world. But through God's abundant grace, I found my identity as a child of God. The peace that overwhelmed my heart was not a moment of peace, but was one which transformed and renewed me; it was something I had never felt before in my life.
During this past fall semester, my friends from Salt & Light1 jokingly teased me about how much I cried at church—and how I became the answer to the word “crybaby” when we played Taboo. My friend pointed and screamed at me, “You! At church!” But to clarify, those tears shed on the church pew were a response to the peace and love that I received from God, rather than a reaction to my own frustration. For the first time in 21 years, I felt peace in my heart—and in its unfamiliarity of safeness and feeling of being so loved and seen, my heart couldn’t handle it. It was too good for my heart. And I realized that a foundation built on His peace and grace was far greater and sweeter than the one built on my own anxiety. As my heart filled with joy and thanksgiving, I found myself opening my heart to myself and to those around me. I still find myself lost in the awestruck wonder of His love.
Through Salt & Light, my perspective of breaking bread and spending time at the dinner table also transformed. I found myself more immersed in mealtime fellowship, enjoying the company of others rather than being conscientious about myself. From post Friday Gathering Jo’s, Sunday Andrew’s brunch, to countless meals I had with my sisters and brothers in Christ, food became a medium through which I discovered genuine love and care between people.
This shift in perspective prompted me to question what food and sharing meals meant to others: How do others find joy in eating together?
Having discovered this great joy in communion and in community, my degree project celebrates and rejoices in the blessings of eating together. Food contributes to physical and mental well-being and expresses cultural identity through preparation, sharing, and consumption. It also allows us to create a sense of community and belonging. To eat and, or, to cook together is an outward expression that intentionally creates time to spend with others. Not only is food a source of physical nutrition and sustenance, but it's also a medium through which people connect emotionally and bond. Eating together is ultimately an opportunity to show care for one another.
Sharing a meal also allows us to practice inclusivity and hospitality as He teaches us to do so—Christ used the table to love and eat with the unloved and reach the forgotten. Through this project, I hope to share with you a slight glimpse of the beauty and joy of meal tables and the family of God to which we belong.
As food has been a segue for me to connect with God and deepen fellowship with others, this book is a collection of conversations, essays, and journals on food. Written throughout this past year, it highlights and emphasizes the rejoicing in the journey of life, in remembrance of His faithfulness and goodness. Food is a language of love and care, and to share food is the ultimate action that illustrates those qualities. When we infuse our meals with intention, mindfulness, and reverence, we recognize the sacredness in the simple act of eating and sharing, and we open ourselves to the transformative power of nourishment, both physically and spiritually. I hope to share this joy and goodness of life that God has revealed to me with you, in knowing that in all things, we can “rejoice always, pray continually, and to give thanks in all circumstances ” (1 Thessalonians 5:16-18)