By Tricia Murphy

Real servants maintain a low profile.

That statement brings two people to mind right away and I’d love to tell you about them because they stay under the radar, so you probably wouldn’t know them for their servant hearts unless you have been a recipient. Then you wouldn’t forget them.

I’m a foodie. My family also loves good food. My extended family of sisters, brothers, parents are all food lovers. It can get obnoxious at times because we plan our gatherings around food. How many meals will be involved? Who will bring what? How many people will be at each meal?

We remember holidays and gatherings by what was brought, what was eaten, and who liked and disliked this or that. So we have established my love for food. Making food for our family, you could say, is a love language. When a dish is dropped off for us, you are in essence saying, “I love you” in that 9 by 13 pan. It can’t get too much better than that in my book.

When my mom was in the last few weeks of her life, we – all 23 of us – moved into my parents’ home to be together during her last days. Our 14 kids amongst us spent their days outside swimming in the pond, riding scooters, building sand castles, and whatever else they always did at Papa and Grandma’s house. The eight adults rotated shifts around helping my dad care for my mom and also prep and feed a houseful of people three times a day. It was a very sweet time together as a family and, as you can imagine, exhausting as well.

Now, I don’t doubt that people in town sent food out to my parents’ house while we were there, as they were well established in the community. But there were two people in my life that come to mind right away when I think back to those difficult days. Both gals would kill me if I wrote their names, so I won’t mention them because “maintaining a low profile” is important to them. But I will tell the story of how they served our family so gracefully.

Within a day after my mom passed away, this first gal drove all the way over from Green Bay to deliver an entire feast of grilled meat, roasted vegetables from the grill, fresh bread, dessert, and then also snacks for our coming days -- an overabundance of food that could have probably fed an army. She didn’t stay long. She just wanted to meet a need, give out hugs and then head back home. For a family of food lovers, you couldn’t hug us tighter. Good for the tummies and good for the souls.

Then the day of the funeral, we spent all day at the church and basically went from breakfast to dinner without much thought as to what our kids would eat in-between that time. Well, the second gal shows up early to the funeral and brought us a giant tupperware container of the most A-M-A-Z-I-N-G homemade cookies for our family. She made us take them back to the room where only the family could feast on them, and feast we did. Wow. We still talk about them as “the funeral cookies.” They marked all of us not only because they were melt-in-your-mouth cookies, but because we felt completely and utterly loved that day.

I mean, who brings peanut butter, oatmeal, chocolate chip cookies (not that I remember what kind or anything) to a funeral? Someone who just wanted to serve our family with what she had, that’s who. Thank you Paula and Melissa. Oops! Did that just slip out?

Tricia Murphy is GO director at Green Bay Community Church