Hannon - LOVE WELCOME SERVE: recipes that gather and give

MY HEART

I FEED PEOPLE.

My husband, my children, and anyone who walks in my door.

New faces on my street, and old friends.

People who have babies, job changes, and water damage.

People who are celebrating.

People who are grieving.

My towns high school football coaches.

The UPS man who knocks on the door.

Churchfolk, kinfolk, menfolk, womenfolk.

And just about any other folks who come across my path.

Why do I feed people? Because I believe with my whole heart that people who are cooked for feel cared for. Ive believed that for as long as I can remember. This way of love was modeled by my grandmother Euna Mae Nelson, who fed her Circle group, her Sunday school class, and her grandchildren every Wednesday when wed come over to play. She made compassion meals for people who were hurting. She donated treats to area bake sales. She hosted and fed her familys families on sled-worthy snow days, any given pretty afternoon, and every Easter and Christmas for as long I can remember.

Euna Mae had a round wooden stool with a cushioned top that shed let me pull right up between her sink and her stovewhich was exactly in the middle of in the way. Id ask questions, and shed answer. Id sit on my knees and watch her tend to her gooey, slow-stirred, homemade mac n cheese with noodles that, at the time, seemed as big as my face. I learned over time how to recognize when the macaroni and cheese was ready to be taken out of the oven because the cheese and butter were all melted in and the edges had juuust started to dry out. Sometimes Id stand right next to her while she made her famous peach fried pies that my daddy and his brothers would practically wrestle over. Id watch her test the heat of her pan with the first pie, sometimes too hot and sometimes just right. (Too hot meant burning a pie, which made her madder than a wet hen!) I would stand nose-up to the kitchen counter, watching and waiting, while the still-sizzling pies drained right in front of me on brown paper bags from our small-town grocery store. At the time I didnt think a thing about parking myself right in the action zone of her small kitchen. But as I got older, with a kitchen of my own, and reflected back on those days in the kitchen with Euna Mae, I realized why she never shooed me away. She was intentional kitchening. She knew that making and serving food was a means to an end, and that the end was impacting the lives of people for the better. And in this case, that life was mine.

Because feeding people is the way love was shown to me and the way I show love, Ive become aware in the last several years of how folks have gotten away from feeding their families, from opening their doors to friends and neighbors, and from using the ministry of food to love on people. Everyones gotten busy, noses down in their phones and hustling all about. Everyones gotten wrapped up in making things just so, like a Pinterest board or a staged social media photo. (Emphasis on the word staged.) The result is excuses, comparisons, closed doors, and missed opportunities to show people theyre cared for. Isnt that a shame? Let me tell you, I became stirred on the inside about encouraging and equipping folks to embrace hospitalityintentional kitcheningso people wouldnt miss one more minute of the love that happens when they make and serve food to their people.

One day when my husband, Sam, was working from home, I went into his office and, with a lump in my throat, told him that I felt as if God was urging me to do something bigger. I didnt know what that bigger something was, and it scared the daylights out of me. I liked my life at home, doing for-hire projects here and there, keeping my house, nurturing my relationships, and ya know, hanging out. But Im telling you, this urge was undeniably strong. I knew only two things: (1) I had a growing desire to inspire folks to use their homes and kitchens to get into the lives of people, and (2) my heart raced so hard I couldnt sleep because I sensed God had something in mind that He wanted me to do about it. So I prayed and waited. And I wish you couldve been a mouse in my pocket for the next six months and witnessed all the things that came together to steer me toward my first big move.

With purpose and some divine prompting, I opened a kitchen boutique down the street from my house named after my grandmother Euna Mae, with hopes of encouraging and equipping folks to live out authentic hospitality, to inspire intentional kitchening. Yall, I was forty-one years old and had never worked in retail. Gosh, for that matter, I had never even had five consecutive days with a shower and makeup. But it was clear as a bell that it was the step I was supposed to take, the purpose that had been stirred up in my heart that one teary-eyed day with Sam. I had peace and passion, and the people responded. And theyre still responding.