Welcome to Sunday Supper!
Set the Table
Say your grace
Prayer: Dear God,
May my faith foundation sustain me when the weary winds blow, uncertainty abounds, and the light of hope grows dim.
In Jesus’ name,
Amen.
Affirmation: I am fierce.
Gratitude: I am grateful for a solid foundation.
I am grateful for every reader, subscriber, commenter, and those who share this newsletter with others.
The Main Dish
Dig in
Five years ago, I ran into an old friend at a local hardware store in our hometown. When I say “old friend,” I mean kindergarten classmate old.
I vividly remember tears sliding down his rosy, red cheeks when his memaw left him on our first day of school. He was hysterical. I even saw his memaw turn red. I’d never seen anyone turn red when they cried; that’s why this memory stands out to me.
After his memaw left, he stopped crying.
That first day of kindergarten, we became fast friends. We played tag that day during recess and almost every recess that school year.
When I saw him again at the hardware store, it felt like old times on the playground. I didn’t live in Arkansas anymore, so it was a sweet surprise to see a familiar face.
“Brandon, good to see you! It’s been a long time. Looks like you’re building something,” I said, pointing to his shopping buggy. There were nails, a nail gun, a level, several measuring tapes, and even a circular saw.
Brandon had always been ambitious. But something about that cart full of tools didn't add up.
After graduation, I attended college in Texas. He attended the University of Arkansas and later pursued law school. I hadn’t seen him since we graduated from high school in 1999.
“Good to see you too. I’m building a house,” he said.
“Whaaaatttttt!” I said with excitement. “You building it yourself?” I asked jokingly.
“Yes,” he said.
“You building it on your family land?” I asked.
“Yes!” he said proudly. “Good to see you, Andrea. Glad you’re taking care of yourself.”
“Awesome. I’m proud of you. Take care, Brandon!”
“Take care, Andrea.”
Brandon is a well-known attorney with clients throughout Southeast Arkansas. He is also a rising political star and just won a congressional seat in the U.S. House of Representatives a few months before I saw him.
He was building a house with his own hands? It didn’t add up.
Six months after our encounter, I returned to Arkansas for Christmas break. On my way home, I drove by Brandon’s family land, about three miles north of my parents’ house. I’m nosey and wanted to see the progress.
Sure enough, a foundation had been laid, and the frame was up. But something puzzled me.
The foundation sat on sand. Not Delta soil. Not red clay. Just soft, white, unnatural sand. It was the kind of sand you'd expect under a beach umbrella, not under a house in Arkansas.
We don’t even have sandy soil in Southeast Arkansas. He must’ve had it shipped in. From Florida, maybe?
I returned to Arkansas for Juneteenth six months later and drove by again. The house stood like a monument. White columns lined the wrap-around porch. Tall windows flanked the French doors, and the sand was still visible beneath it all.
Other than the sand, it looked perfect, like something off the cover of Southern Home Magazine.
Christmas came again.
I rode by Brandon’s house one more time. The sand had shifted, and so had the house. The columns leaned left. One tall window had a crack like a lightning bolt, as long as the window itself. The foundation was unsteady.
Maybe he thought the appearance of strength was enough, but the white columns didn't hide a weak foundation.
The house was sinking.
Brandon leads in Congress the same way he built that house. He had the right tools to win: charisma, connections, credentials, but he governs on sinking sand.
His policies elevate the wealthy and bury the poor. His votes reflect corporate interests, not the cries of the constituents who held him up and elected him to serve. His voice was once full of promise, but now it pontificates the priorities of the powerful.
It’s hard to watch someone so rooted in our hometown community drift so far from it.
I wanted to believe he was still the boy who cried when his memaw left. He isn’t.
He built a house, just like he built his political platform, on something never meant to hold it up.
Now, the house is sinking.
Table Talk
Pot Likker and Cornbread Crumbs
There’s flavor in the small things.
But everyone who hears these words of mine and does not put them into practice is like a foolish man who built his house on sand. The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell with a great crash.” Matthew 7:26-27
Potluck
From Our Community Kitchen: Book, Music, Art
Book
Music
Art
Recipe Exchange
Lemonade Anyone?
My daughter is one of my biggest supporters and a loyal reader of Sunday Supper. She loves to create recipes, and this past week, she made a delicious Strawberry Cherry Lemonade using fresh fruit.
She asked me to share the recipe with you all today!
H. P.’s Strawberry Cherry Lemonade
Ingredients:
6 strawberries, destemmed
10 fresh cherries, pitted
4 Large Lemons
1.5 Cups sugar (adjust to taste)
5 cups hot water
Instructions:
Wash your fruit
Puree strawberries and cherries until smooth.
Put pureed strawberries and cherries in a pan on medium-high heat, simmer, and add one tablespoon of sugar.
If you don’t want any pulp, strain the puree through a fine mesh sieve into a large pitcher.
Stir in the lemon juice and sugar in a pitcher until the sugar dissolves in the water.
Add the pureed mixture to the water mixture.
Add the remaining water and mix until well combined.
Put in the fridge to chill.
Enjoy!
Dessert
A Sweet Send-Off
The iconic band, Living Colour!
Until next time, feed your mind, body, and spirit, and don't forget to feed others, too!