poem

What if we thought of the Eucharist as the Table? The place where we were fed. Real sustenance. The stuff that gives us life and strength and nourishes us. The sort of food that sticks to our ribs and erases sallowness and eases our emaciation. The sit-down-and-feast sort of Table. Because we know we need it. That without it, we would starve. And die.   What if we thought of the Eucharist as a meal