It’s a little bit soggy here this morning. The rains that keep our Great Pacific Northwest dressed in our signature evergreen have drenched us these past few days. In the pasture, the Belted Galloway cows are grazing, the weather doesn’t seem to faze them much. There is something so peaceful about watching them, the calves playfully butting heads while the mama’s low moo keeps them in line.
It’s an inside day, at least for now, and I am cozy in my kitchen. It’s quiet. Surrounded by wooden spoons and old yellow bowls, I am reminded of the sacredness of the place. I pull ingredients whose sole purpose is sustaining life and family. I think it should be Soul Purpose. When I plan a meal, put it together and serve it to my family, it really is the ultimate gift. It shows I took the time, put in the love and called us all to gather around the table. There is concern that the ‘family meal’ is a thing of the past. Lifestyles have changed, families are busy and schedules are hectic. All of this is true, but it does bring to mind an old saying, “the more things change, the more they stay the same.” There is still a basic human need to connect and share and the family table is the beginning. Especially now~ the world wide plea to ‘Stay Home, Stay Safe’ has brought a measure of calm to the panic. Right now we are confined with the folks we hold most dear, our family.
I always say, the meal isn’t even the most important part of this gathering. It could be hot dogs and cold beans, or prime rib. If there are children at home, they can be called to set the table, or mix the muffins. Hubby can carve the meat or scoop the veggies into the serving bowl. Around the table, the art of conversation is learned and refined as topics of the day are introduced. And who helps with the clean~up? Another gathering, this time in reverse, as the table is cleared, dishes are washed, and left~overs are prepared for tomorrow’s lunch.
It is up to us to keep our connections, to share our stories, to build our memories. Growing up a favorite at Grandma Goodie’s house was cinnamon toast. Home~made bread, toasted, buttered and sprinkled, she cut it in little squares and stacked it up on small round plates. My grand~ones didn’t have the privilege of meeting grandma, but when they come over, what do they want? Grandma Goodie toast, and she lives on in my kitchen.
If they happen to pop in today, I will offer them this old favorite, knowing that as I mixed and kneaded on this Sunday morning, my prayers of hope and peace and love for them were worked into each roll of the dough.
Peace. Love. Amen.
Porch Songs~ 