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About half an hour into my work day, I entered a meeting.
About eight hours later, I got out of that meeting. Well, actually – the people
kept changing, and the venue changed three times, and three of the meetings
were really one meeting which was broken into three parts.

My point is, and only is, that I am tired. Brain tired.

I gratefully walked through the door of my welcome welcome
home, and thrust my used up coffee thermos on the table, and threw the junk
mail straight into the recycling, and turned to…and then there was a knock at
the door.

I’m going to pause here a moment.

There’s been a lot of knocking at my door lately. Neighbors.
People wanting to mow my lawn. People making up stories so that I will give
them money when I don’t have work to give. Friends holding flowers. Kids
selling candies.

I was so brain tired. I wasn’t sure I wanted, so quickly,
another “meeting”.

But I opened the door.

A few days ago, I came home for my lunch break and sat on
the porch to eat. The mailman came by, for all appearances talking very very
sternly to himself, until he turned around and I could see the phone earpiece in
his ear. And then, my neighbor Lindsay jogged past. I waved, she waved. And
then, she stopped and jogged back and said, “Do you like peach pie?” (Do you think this was a trick question? I
thought this might be a trick question.)

“Yes!”

“Great! I am making peach pies this week. I will bring you one.”

So back to now, a few days later, the ominous knock – and
you already know before I did who was at the door.

I open the door, and a peach pie is thrust at me.

“Peach pie!” I exclaim “You have no idea…”
“I hope you like it!” says Lindsay, “I must go and finish dinner. Just wanted
to bring it by. Bye!”

And like that – the best meeting of the day is over. Firm
agenda. Everyone except me came prepared. To the point. Obvious next steps.

And then I discovered the most excellent thing. I
discovered, that once you stop crying because someone just thrust a beautiful
peach pie at you, that when one is alone and one had been given a whole giant
gift of a pie – that no slicing need to be involved. All you need is a fork.
You probably don’t need that either, but I wanted that fork. And I ate pie.
Straight from the whole pie. One small bite. And then one giant bite. And a few
more bites for good measure, and the measure was very good.

I dove into this gift. I was headed to play music at a
gathering in fifteen minutes after receiving the pie, and I did not sit, I did
not grab a plate, I did not wait for a prudent later – I found a clean fork.

And because I cannot fully describe what this is like – I
can only hope that I remember this. That I remember that this is exactly the
gift that I want to give when I am able or remember to give them. I want to
give someone the whole pie, and not to share it. I want to give it to them with
a fork, when they are tired and hungry, and not tell them how much to eat of it
or when or where or how, but to leave very quickly, and go make my own business
happen, and leave them to that pie, and that fork. And I want everyone I know to experience
this.

So much more than peaches. But I am grateful for the
peaches. And a neighbor who has no idea what an embodiment of grace this has
been for me.

And please remind me when we meet, that you have a fondness
for pie.