This morning I popped a free-range chicken from the food co-op into a 350-degree oven thinking I’d serve it to my kids tonight for dinner. I just salted it, threw a clean apple inside it to keep it moist, and sprinkled chopped carrots around the bottom of its iron fry pan.

When the bird was cooked, it smelled so good that I thought, “Hmmm…maybe I’ll have just a little bit for lunch.” I’d already revived an aging bunch of kale by chopping off the last two-inches of stem and letting it drink like cut flowers in a wide glass of water. So I chopped all that up, sautéed it for two minutes in some sesame oil, added Bragg’s liquid protein concentrate and lemon juice. Voila, with chicken, a meal. At noon. That I cooked for myself.

I don’t give myself this gift very often. Do you? I think we all struggle to cook for ourselves, to feel deserving of our own little feast (with folded napkin to boot). We instead put our talents into cooking for company, right? But to sit down and serve yourself a balanced meal of your own making is a great pick-me-up. It feels like a prayer in action. Try it, if you haven’t done so in awhile. You’ll be happy.

What other nurturing habits like this are you cultivating?

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