Hi friends,
It's almost here isn't it?!
I'm getting so excited. I just love Christmas don't you?!!
Some of my friends are done with everything.
The cookies are baked, candies made,
gifts wrapped and under the tree....
if that is you... I salute you.
I don't know how yall do it...
This is my last big thing I'm working on.
The cookbook Trent asked me for.
Right now I'm on a coffee/blog break.
I'm taking a breather... and looking for more inspiration
to make it special for him.
I've kept a recipe box since I was barely a teenager.
My Momma had one like most of your Mommas or Grandma's I'm sure.
I remember her writing out recipes and me; wanting my very own box.
So I got one... it was plastic... brown like wood only it was plastic.
I love the recipes that I copied of hers in my 12-13 year old handwriting.
I love her recipes in her handwriting and my aunt Nancy's and sister's ...
the ones written by hand are the most special of all.
While I thumbed through my recipes, I came upon the index card
that says Mike n Lea forever. My husband surprised me with that
when we were young. It's exactly how he used to write notes to me in high school.
He stuck this card in my recipe box to find shortly after we were married.
I'm going to photo copy it and stick it inside Trent's binder.
Most of us have dreams when we're kids of what we want to be
when we grow up. Some had big ambitions.... doctors, nurses, firemen,
... I wanted to be a wife and momma most of all.
My early adolescent years were not good. My parents split up, and
we moved alot and not because we just wanted to.
I dreamed of one day marrying a good man who would love me forever and who
I would get to love forever ... and I wanted a family.
Roots. I dreamed of living an old fashioned life and that's exactly what I got.
We met one night on 8th street in Rapid City South Dakota.
I literally ran into the car of boys he was with.
We married at 18 years of age and I got pregnant 8 months later.
Trent's story then began.
After he was born and we bought our first little farmstead;... his recipe book
began. We raised and butchered our own chickens, and rabbits. I grew a garden,
learned to can and milked a goat. These stories I'm adding into Trent's recipe book.
I want him to know and remember where he came from.
I hope one day when I'm gone... he will open this binder and touch my handwriting.
I hope he hears my voice when he reads our stories.
I hope he feels my love when he bites into the cookies he grew up on.
I want him to know how I prayed for him and others while I stir and knead
and sprinkle love into their food.
A tear just streamed down my right cheek as I keyed that last sentence.
So many gifts are found in moments shared.
Gathering with loved ones around the table.
Passing bread, and buttermilk chocolate cake.
Plates of spaghetti and garlic bread.
Holding hands and bowing heads to say Grace.
I better get back to it before I go to mush.
Until we meet again
<*))))><
No comments:
Post a Comment