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Some people say they have a hollow leg. Others seem to have developed more than one stomach—one for appetizers, one for the main course, and one for dessert! Me, I was born hungry.
Ever since I can remember, I have been searching for food. As a youngster, I would comb through the kitchen cabinets. Raw oatmeal, uncooked potatoes (with salt!), day-old cinnamon rolls. Candy was good at any time. Ice cream pilfered late at night. A bowl of cold (sweet) breakfast cereal with milk. Unpeeled carrots. And that was between meals!
Don’t get me wrong; I was well fed at meals. Guess I was high energy. And skinny.
My appetite has diminished somewhat over the years, and my waistline expanded, but I still have a very healthy liking for food of all sorts, and through hard work, exercise and good genetics, I have managed to keep my shape. Seems hunger may leave me only when I die?
Underneath, I think I have been hungry from birth, for life, for the love of God, for relationship.
Oh, there have been times when I’ve wanted to quit, to take a good long break, to put God on the back burner. To simply focus on myself. Is this not part of normal growth and living? The development from the self to the other?
Because I often felt I had to sneak food or snacks between meals, I learned to “cover my tracks.” To set everything correctly back in place. To clean up after myself, to leave no trace.
This has actually led into a good habit—one fostered by the words of Fr. John T. Callahan, a deceased Madonna House priest—”to always leave the room better than you found it.”
A little cleaning here, ordering the contents there, and mind the floor. Any tracks? This has become part of my daily serving of my brothers and sisters in community. To hiddenly and thoughtfully restore a room is a beautiful thing to do.
Even though I was pretty shy—being on the introverted end of the spectrum—I valued Mom’s encouragement, Dad’s approval, my brother and sister’s love, and friends’ companionship. The quality of each mattered more than the quantity.
My religious teachers told me that God is love. Most even patterned it for me. Hungry for love? Yes, and I sought this out, too.
Born hungry for God? Yes, desiring to know the truth, to grow in faith, to blossom with charity. At first this manifested itself by my trying to do good and avoiding sin. Not always successful, I needed also to hunger for God’s mercy. And to begin to seek that very personal relationship with God the Father, Son and Holy Spirit.
As time passed, I learned that Mary is very helpful in all this, as well as St. Joseph. Angels, saints, holy men and women (and children) also cheered me on. Not to mention family, friends and community.
Somehow, the search for food, for relationship and for God have all come together. Not to mention the search for beauty, for meaning, for personal truth. As St. Augustine says, “We are restless until we rest in Thee, O God.” Holy restlessness?
And, as I have accepted my hunger, the best discovery was to know that in the end (and the beginning) God is always and forever hungry for me and for my love.
