‘Chef Mechanic

Counted among the company of specialized craftsmen who grace our world is a rare breed we might label the “Chef Mechanic”.

We know of chef. We know of mechanic. We hear at times of a chief mechanic.  The soul of Chef-Mechanic Dan Sterling crossed a threshold before sunrise last Tuesday. Heaven grew richer at my friend’s passing.

We had met Dan and Maggie at a mission event months before and soon discovered the retiree couple, literally lived and breathed service. Taking early retirement from years as a diesel mechanic, Dan and his adventurous lady set about pursuing whatever fields of service they sensed the Lord opening before them. One such trail led them to a downstairs dining spot on the Tulsa University campus. Our ministry’s FIL (Free International Lunch).

Donning his kitchen apron he was set for whatever culinary tasks lay before him. Flashing his ear-to-ear smile, Dan’s call of, “OK, gang, shall we!” rallied his half dozen fellow volunteers to enthusiastic action.

Moments later the area buzzed with the clinking and clanging of pots and pans blended with a chorus of happy voices. ISM’s international luncheon prep team.

A predominant presence of talented ladies – full-time homemakers and career women (all navigating busy schedules) – offered their collective skills, preparing and serving meals for the scores of students filing along cafeteria-style serving-line.

The Thursday morning atmosphere there in the basement kitchen of the Wesley was often punctuated by a robust burst of laughter offered up through a cheery male voice. Dan’s was a contagious laugh.

Our primary aim for the weekly lunch was to bring forward under God’s enabling a nourishing and tasty “filling” experience for each student passing along the serving table – our hospitality turf, our basement bistro. What joy witnessing the Sterling Team (Maggie and son Matthew often equally engaged) happily, generously doing their part. Pleasing palates, enriching souls.

©2024 Jerry Lout

Welcome

Known simply as Mom Starbuck, she took her place behind the lectern. A stickler for faithfulness in Christian duty she let nothing short of pneumonia deny her its privilege. Hugging a Bible to her chest, she closed her eyes. A more sincere opening prayer I never heard. Her eyes opened and met with those of each person in the small gathering.

Beloved, let’s turn to the Book of Luke. We want to hear some things Jesus said. We’ll see him at work and we’ll listen to the counsel he gave some villagers. Timely counsel for us today.

It was the Lord’s Day. And Mom Starbucks Adult Sunday School class – homemakers, technicians, newly-weds, oilfield workers – all paid attention.

By my third Sunday in town I counted the Assembly as my church home. Mom and Pop, each of them aging but spry, approached me following worship, that late-Summer day. Of the pair Pop was the shorter – maybe by two inches. A sustained twinkle highlighted crows-feet about his eyes, giving the impression a frown had never visited his face.  His trademark chuckle – complete with faint shoulder-tremors – endeared Pop to the community. Mom was slightly humpbacked, perhaps from compensating over their height discrepancy. She was the more vocal.  I was both attracted to and unsettled by a conviction-fire  that sometimes visited her eyes.  I had noticed the odd way her closed lips moved about when something important held her thoughts. They moved that way now.

Jerry, Harold and I would like to give you something to consider.

Sure.

We know that where you live doesn’t allow for any home-cooked meals. So we were wondering.

Pop Starbuck nodded.

Harold and I raised three daughters. They’re all grown now and live at their own places. We’d like you to think about moving in with us – try out some of my cooking. Her smile couldn’t have been more inviting.

We can suggest a room-and-board amount and you can decide.  Do you think you’d be interested?

Entering the bedroom with my bit of luggage I took some seconds to adjust my vision. My eyes felt under assault. With pink.

I’ll need no explanation of  this. Mom and Pop raised girls alright. The grin on my face broadened as I inventoried my new living quarters.

Bedspread-Pink

Chest-of-drawers – Pink

Curtains and Drapes – Pink,

Etc.

Organ music filtered from the living room as I unpacked my suitcase. Afterward I paused at the doorway. My weaker leg wasn’t tired. It just felt good to rest against a wall inside a home. Where family dwelled.

The small organ bench supported a contented Pop Starbuck. Clearly at ease in his musician-role. And with himself.

Aromas of pot roast, simmering carrots, potatoes and who knew what else floated from the modest kitchen.  I felt my mouth moisten.

Shortly Mom Starbuck emerged and sent a smile our way.

Are you two gents ready to take in some food?

I entered the kitchen and approached a dining table set for three. And hummed a closing line I was taking in from another room.

Great is thy faithfulness Lord unto me.

©2015 Jerry Lout