My friend recently asked me what my love language was. And it caught me off guard.
I didn’t really know how to answer. I’ve never been great at waxing poetic about my emotions and usually can’t muster up anything more than “I love you” in a serious relationship. I hug like a champ and happily dole out shoulder massages to any who call upon me, but I don’t really consider that my love language. I like giving gifts at Christmas and birthdays but don’t ascribe much to the practice of exchanging material goods outside those occasions.
To be honest, the answer came to me much sooner than today. But I laughed out loud at myself today when I thought how long it took for me to figure it out.
My love language is totally food.
I show up to every bible study with bread or cookies or hummus. I constantly hustle my boyfriend out of the kitchen when he’s over for supper because I want to cook for him. I regularly bring treats to work for my colleagues. I always volunteer to provide snacks for church fellowship events. I love the hands-on aspect of cooking and baking, and I love knowing that what I make will be fed to those I love.
This evening, I made spicy white bean dip, peanut butter cup cookie balls, chocolate chip cookie dough balls, and chocolate chip cookie dough blondies, all of which I will bring to church tomorrow night for our Friday night coffee house worship service.
It feels like feeding the sheep to me, like feeding the hungry hundreds with bread and fish. Just providing for the most basic needs of my brothers and sisters, making their nourishment a little more special, feels so good and right to me. It’s how I say I love you. Some people say it through music, through volunteering to balance a budget, through giving gifts. I say it through food.
Take and eat. This is my love, given for you.