I think I married one of only five people on the planet that does not enjoy eating. Bob doesn't see eating as the divine pleasure that most of us consider it to be. He views it as mere fuel and he isn't opposed to fuel rationing for the rest of us. He offered to bring me home some lunch one day and brought home a Whopper Junior. One Whopper Junior... for us to split! I'm dead serious. What most of the nation would consider a snack-bite, Bob considered lunch. My family still teases him about what he once believed to be an adequate lunch for some guests. Family had stopped over and he offered to go get some KFC. I don't remember exactly how many of us there were (probably 8-10) but he brought home three dinners (for all of us!). No one wanted to be the first one to dig in. Let's see, three green beans for you, a teaspoon of mashed potatoes, five corn kernels... it was embarrassing. You might be tempted to think Bob is cheap but you could not be more mistaken. He is one of the most generous people I've ever met. He just doesn't have a very big appetite (to put it mildly) and he can't conceive of anyone else having one either. He has a very weak stomach. One time just a mere glimpse of a hair on his salad gave him a such a serious case of the dry heaves that he almost lost it (we managed to get it out of his sight just in the knick of time). Maybe if I always had food that close to coming up on me I wouldn't want to eat as much either. You would have thought that living with him for almost 25 years and enduring the fuel rationing, I might be skinny. Not! As much as I would love to have his appetite (and I'm sure he would love for me to have it), I still love to eat and frequently eat too much. Fuel rationing just doesn't appeal to me. My dad was never one to mince words and anytime I mentioned wanting to lose weight he would suggest "taking off the feedbag." He would add that "you never saw any fat people coming out of a concentration camp, did you?" The problem is, I love the feedbag...I just wished Bob loved it too.

After Bob and I got engaged we asked the pastor that had married my parents to marry us too. He told a little story at the rehearsal dinner that made me deeply regret ever considering him for the part. He told of a newlywed husband that asked his wife to try on his jeans. Of course, they were way too big on her and he said to let that serve as a reminder as to who wore the pants in the family. Very funny! I felt like everyone was laughing at me, because the fact is, two of Bob's legs could probably fit into one of my pant legs! So if that little illustration held true, I would be the one wearing the pants. That silly, old coot...what was he thinking??? He's not really a silly, old coot. The fact is he is a wonderful, godly man that just didn't do his homework. Fortunately, I've never wanted to wear the pants anyway. Although it would be nice to be able fit to into Bob's pants.

The truth is, Bob's missing the boat on this one. I know God meant for us to enjoy eating...otherwise why would there be all that feasting in the Bible? Anytime there was something to celebrate a feast ensued. Remember when the return of the prodigal son called for the fatted calf to be prepared? Remember the Israelites thinking they would rather return to slavery(!) if only to experience some tasty morsels again? I remember thinking that if Martha had chosen the "better thing" too, who would have cooked the meal? Silly thought. Compared to feeding 5000 people, a meal for that small gathering would have been small potatoes for Jesus. Doesn't just the aroma of outdoor grilling make your mouth water? Remember Jesus cooking some fresh fish for the disciples after His resurrection? His resurrected body took in food so why wouldn't ours? I believe we will continue to enjoy eating in the New Heaven and the New Earth and that Bob will be contentedly lapping it up right there with us (finally!).