“We must learn to live together as brothers and sisters. If not, we will perish as fools.”  —Congressman John Lewis on July 8, 2016.

The events of the past week have shaken me, like many, and I don’t feel much like talking about food. Today I want to talk about something else. Like most important lessons, I have learned this one the hard way. 

I know for a fact that hate enslaves the hater as surely and thoroughly as it does the hated. As long as you continue to rage against a person or experience that has hurt you, as long as you attempt to distance yourself from it and push hard against it, you continue to define yourself in relation to it. Even as you maintain that you want no part of it, it continues to define you. Yes, it hurts. But it is not until you begin to step away from it — and not think of yourself in relation to it — that you begin, finally, to heal. 

I am not saying that it’s easy. But the alternative is unacceptable. I said something like this once, and I find myself saying it here again: Conflict is inevitable, but patience and kindness are a choice.

In the months before 9/11, a young family moved onto our small street from their former home in the Middle East. On that terrible day, I worried that they might fear for their safety. I wondered if they were worried that they would feel forever like strangers in their new home. When evening came after that very long day, and my children were tucked in, I baked a batch of cookies, and then walked alone up the dark, silent street to their home. I knocked on the door. They peeked out from behind the curtains, and then invited me in. We had a nice visit. Their children and mine grew up together. They live there still.

Food has the power to connect people around the world. The simple act of sharing a bowl of peaches with your neighbor can bring you together. So go take a bowl of peaches or grapes or something over to your neighbor. I think it’ll be good.  #enough