A Silent Lover Is One Who Doesn't

Give Us This Day Our Daily Taste. Restore To Us Soups That Spoons Will Not Sink In And Sauces Which Are Never The Same Twice. Raise Up Among Us Stews With More Gravy Than We Have Bread To Blot It With... Give Us Pasta With A Hundred Fillings.

We Were Given Appetites, Not To Consume The World And Forget It, But To Taste Its Goodness And Hunger To Make It Great.

The Bread And The Pastry, The Cheeses And Wine, And The Sugar Go Into The Supper Of The Lamb Because We Do. It Is Our Love That Brings The City Home. It Is I Grant You, An Incautious And Extravagant Hope. But Only Outlandish Hopes Can Make Themselves At Home.

He Comes To Us In The Brokenness Of Our Health, In The Shipwreck Of Our Family Lives, In The Loss Of All Possible Peace Of Mind, Even In The Very Thick Of Our Sins. He Saves Us In Our Disasters, Not From Them. He Emphatically Does Not Promise To Meet Only The Odd Winner Of The Self-improvement Lottery. He Meets Us All In Our Endless And Inescapable Losing.

If You Take All Your Meals Seriously, None Of Them Gets A Chance To Matter.