The Parable of the Cheeseball: A Story of Unexpected Kindness

Sometimes, the most profound lessons arrive when you least expect them, disguised in the simplest forms. This holiday season, I wanted to share a story from last year, a tale I’ve affectionately named “The Parable of the Cheeseball.” It’s a testament to the quiet power of intuition, the immense impact of small acts of service, and the unexpected ways we can bless each other’s lives. (I’m sharing this deeply personal experience with my dear friend, Fern’s, heartfelt permission.)

A Cherished Holiday Tradition: More Than Just a Cheeseball

For many years, our family has embraced a cherished holiday tradition: crafting and delivering homemade cheeseballs to our neighbors, friends, and anyone who brings a spark to our lives. It’s an annual event that fills our kitchen with laughter, flour, and a delightful mess. This tradition has woven itself into the fabric of our family life, creating memories that I believe will endure for generations. The anticipation surrounding these cheesy gifts is genuinely amusing. As December dawns, I find myself navigating church hallways with a playful caution, half-expecting to be playfully “accosted” by enthusiastic “regulars” on our list, eager to know when their beloved cheeseballs will arrive. Their excitement is infectious and a highlight of our holiday preparations.

Each year, we dedicate an entire day, sometimes two, to this delightful endeavor, producing anywhere from 50 to 85 cheeseballs. It’s a marathon of mixing, shaping, and packaging, a process that, despite its chaos, is filled with immense joy. This tradition has always been about sharing a piece of our holiday spirit, a tangible expression of goodwill and connection within our community. Little did we know, last year, one of these cheeseballs would carry a significance far greater than any of us could have imagined.

Fern’s Unexpected Challenge: A Time of Great Need

Last year, our holiday season unfolded against a backdrop of concern for a family in our church. We knew Fern and her family through our children, who shared some classes, and through various church and school gatherings. They were facing incredibly difficult times. Fern had recently undergone a major, incredibly invasive brain surgery. She was at home, embarking on what promised to be a very, very long and arduous recovery. The pain she endured was severe, making even simple movements excruciating. She struggled to get out of bed, battling constant lethargy and the ever-present risk of falling.

Compounding her suffering, a part of her jaw had been affected during the surgery, making eating a monumental challenge. She could barely open her mouth, limiting her diet strictly to soft foods. This sweet family had been in our thoughts and prayers for weeks, their struggles weighing heavily on our hearts. We wished we could do more, offer more tangible support, but often, in such situations, it’s hard to know precisely how to help.

A Late-Night Delivery and an Unexplained Prompting

One particular evening, just a few nights before Christmas, we were in the thick of our cheeseball delivery spree. It was getting late, perhaps around 9 PM. By conventional standards, it was certainly past the hour for polite doorstep deliveries. However, when you’re in peak cheeseball production mode, conventional social norms often take a backseat to the mission at hand.

My husband, Brian, and our boys were out making their final rounds. Brian called me, his voice carrying a sense of conviction. “I think I’m going to take this last cheeseball up to Fern and her family,” he said. This suggestion surprised me. We had never delivered a cheeseball to them before; they weren’t on our usual list, and we hadn’t known them well enough in previous years. I voiced my reservations, suggesting it might be too late, that we shouldn’t disturb them. But Brian was resolute, driven by an unshakeable inner prompting to deliver this one last cheeseball, specifically to Fern’s home.

So, Brian and the boys drove to Fern’s house, dropped off the cheeseball, and returned home. For us, it was a simple act, the completion of our annual tradition. I admit, I greeted Brian with a mildly grumpy look, still feeling my earlier caution was justified. Sometimes, a silent, disapproving glance feels strangely satisfying, even when you know it’s not exactly in the spirit of the season. Little did I know, my fleeting irritation would soon be replaced by profound humility.

The Power of a Simple Text: A Revelation

The next morning, a text message appeared on my phone. It was from Fern. My heart quickened slightly as I opened it, wondering if it was an apology for the late delivery or perhaps a simple thank you. What I read next brought me to tears and profoundly altered my perspective on that “one last cheeseball.”

Fern’s message began: “Good morning, Melanie this is Fern. I just texted your husband and got your number and told him to thank you for the cheese ball and said there is a story behind it. A couple days before you guys brought it over I asked [my husband] to make me one and he told me that he was way too busy to make me one and that he didn’t have the time to go to the store to buy the stuff to make one, he wasn’t ignoring me he was just buy with having to go into work and taking care of the stuff that needed to be taken care of around the house and taking care of me. He didn’t want me falling cuz I was and falling and hitting things. I could barely open my mouth so I was soo craving a cheese ball.”

Reading those words, a knot formed in my stomach. She had been craving a cheeseball! Her husband, despite his love and care, was overwhelmed with her recovery, work, and household duties, genuinely unable to fulfill her simple wish. The idea of going to the store for ingredients felt like an impossible task amidst his strenuous schedule of caring for his ailing wife and preventing her from falling.

She continued: “His sister came over to help me while he was at work again I asked her if she could make me a cheeseball she told me she didn’t know how to make one. So I let it go. But it was still in the back of my mind. I knew I could eat one cuz I could microwave it to where I could eat it. Anyway I was in soo much pain last night and someone knocked on the door and it was your sons.”

My eyes welled up. Fern, in her profound discomfort and weakness, had asked her sister-in-law for the same simple request, only to be met with another gentle “no.” Yet, the craving persisted, a small beacon of comfort in her pain-filled days. The thought that she could microwave a cheeseball to soften it enough to eat highlighted her desperate yearning for this specific comfort food. The timing of our delivery, seemingly random and a little “too late,” was, in fact, precisely perfect.

Then came the final, most poignant part of her message: “Who had exactly what I was wanting. They said Merry Christmas and [my son] said Merry Christmas back. He brought me the Christmas ball and I just cried. I saw who it was from and I quietly thanked Heavenly Father for the angel who probably listened to a prompting and brought what I was truly wanting. It’s the best gift. Your family are true angels!”

Beyond the Cheeseball: The Ripple Effect of Kindness

In that instant, my heart was not just touched but completely overwhelmed. I was humbled beyond words and brought to profound, cleansing tears. Humbled because of my petty irritation the night before, my focus on social norms rather than the deeper meaning of Brian’s prompting. Humbled because it became achingly clear that a loving God was working through our small, imperfect family to bring comfort to someone in desperate need, even though we had no conscious awareness of her specific prayer.

We hadn’t known Fern had been praying for a cheeseball, of all things. For us, dropping off that “one last cheeseball” was a simple, almost insignificant act. We didn’t dwell on it. But that seemingly mundane holiday tradition, coupled with Brian’s unexpected prompting, became a profound answer to prayer for Fern. In that moment, it was immeasurably more than just a delivered cheeseball; it was a tangible manifestation of care, a whisper of divine love.

This simple story became a powerful reminder: sometimes, the acts of service we perform, the gifts we give, may not immediately reveal their full impact on us. But we must never, ever underestimate the ripple effect these small, seemingly insignificant gestures can have on others. A delivered cheeseball, a quick text to check in on someone, a warm side hug in a crowded church hallway or grocery store, a loaf of freshly baked bread left on a doorstep, or simply noticing someone you don’t typically interact with and striking up a genuine conversation – these are the threads that weave the fabric of true community and compassion.

Embracing the Spirit of Giving and Promptings

Never ignore a prompting to reach out to someone. Even if it feels inconvenient, even if it’s late at night and you risk a mild glare from a weary spouse, and even if it pushes you slightly beyond your comfort zone. These intuitions, these quiet urges to connect and serve, are often profound opportunities to make a difference.

I’ve been on the receiving end of such small acts of service more times than I can count. Each one remains vividly etched in my memory, having burned a lasting warmth into my heart that blossoms anew every time I recall the person or the event. These experiences have quite literally shaped my life, inspiring me to be a better human, a more giving individual, open to receiving direction and guidance that I might not even be actively seeking. They fill me with immense gratitude for the tender mercies of a loving Heavenly Father who sees all, even when our own vision and understanding are limited.

This, truly, is the essence of the holiday season. It’s about giving from the deepest reservoirs of our hearts, in the most genuine ways we can, even if that giving takes the humble form of a homemade cheeseball, wrapped in cellophane, delivered by enthusiastic young kids who have no idea of its profound significance (and, incidentally, neither did their parents at the time).

Lessons for a Lifetime: Connecting Through Food and Faith

As an amusing side note, it turns out Fern also absolutely loves no-bake cheesecake (clearly, she’s wonderful company!). This piece of information is invaluable for someone like me, who finds immense joy in expressing love and connection through food. Especially when a bit of playful trading is involved! In fact, Fern, with her incredible talent, made an adorable tiara and wand for my daughter Cam’s birthday last year, and I happily “paid” her in cheesecake. Now, that’s my kind of deal, a true exchange of heart and craft.

And I suppose that sums up this particular reflection. What I know for certain is that the simple act of making and giving cheeseballs has taken on a symbolism and meaning that will forever reside in my heart.

Wishing You Love, Happiness, and Peace This Season

Merry Christmas, my dear friends.

I understand and respect that we all come from diverse backgrounds, celebrating different traditions and holding varied beliefs. However, as my heart overflows with tender feelings this time of year, I want to extend my most sincere wishes to each of you. May you find the love, happiness, and peace that you desire and need, not just during this holiday season, but always. For me, personally, I know that nothing I do, not a single endeavor, would hold any lasting value were it not for my unwavering belief in and unending reliance on my Savior, Jesus Christ. His miraculous birth, His exemplary life, and His constant, unconditional love are, for me, the true reason for this season, and indeed, the guiding path forward through all the seasons of life I will ever encounter.

Thank you for allowing me to share this rather sentimental post today. I am profoundly grateful for each of you, my cherished virtual friends, near and far. I wish you the very happiest of holidays, filled with warmth, connection, and unexpected blessings.