“Just as I am without one plea but that thy blood was shed for me…”, Grandma’s voice was the first sound I heard as I traveled down the stairs and into the kitchen. Her kitchen walls were as blue as the sky. It was morning. A lazy, balmy morning in the summertime. It was school vacation and I spent all summer with my beloved. I watched Grandma that morning, her hands were quick to roll out the buttermilk biscuits. She laid them out in the pan ready to put them in the oven. Once in the oven she readied the bacon, scrambled the eggs, and heated her homemade apple sauce. The apple sauce. A gooey confection of fresh apples, cinnamon, and butter with a dash of nutmeg. I didn’t know that then. I do now. I was 12 years old then. Now I am 58 years old. Quite a few years difference.
I think back to those years spent at her house. I know there is no substitute for that place in your heart which longs to be filled; needs to be satisfied. My Grandmother satisfied that place for me. She was like a sculptor fashioning clay – her hands made you feel welcome with a warm hug, they fed you a savory dish as she gathered together paprika, cut pieces of garlic or just made gravy from flour. It was her hands. Small, delicate and always moving so gracefully. Her hands were elegant.
The crowning achievement to my summers with Grandma was our time spent out on the lawn at night. She spread out a blanket, and we laid out under the stars trying to find the big and little dipper. The stars peppered the black canopy of night and we found ourselves enthralled with the ocean of darkness as the stars gave us a direction to the majesty of the universe.
Today, as I go about my journey in this fast-paced world that I live in, I remember a time that was slower and more peaceful. I remember Grandma, singing her hymns to me and to God, baking bread, listening to the heart of a neighbor; just taking time to minister to the wants and needs of all. My Grandma. In retrospect I am grateful for all that was given to me those summers. The fun of star-gazing, the lessons about the Bible, and the food. I was a student learning life’s lessons and I was at my Grandmother’s table. I was fed; not only food but love. That filled my soul and I am satisfied even to this very day.