" We are one big family of people, trying to make our way through the unfolding puzzle of life. We are all connected to one another in the heart. Connecting with the ultimate source of love is possible through discovering the hidden power in your heart."
Sara Paddison, Hidden Power of the Heart
I stood in my kitchen this afternoon after shucking some ears of corn, cutting off the kernels and scraping the cob. As I put the knife up to a cob, without notice,
without even knowing what I was doing....
the visual of corn coming off in rolls,
of juice spraying my arms and eyes,
the sweet smell of freshness....
I thought of the person who planted the seed, picked the corn,
thought of the water that fell from the sky and the sun that helped the seed birth forth into delicious wonder....
a flash of time,
there I sat....
at that old gray and white metal table
in the center of my great-grandmother's kitchen....
it was a warm memory
hot corn piled high, the little box radio playing on the country station,
granite buckets to capture the kernels we were cutting off...
mom, my little sister and my fatma......
fatma was the motherly matriarch
who felt it was her job to pass on the secret family freezing and canning recipe...
she ran the show...
I was never allowed to cut the corn off the cob--that was for fatma and mama--
my sister and I had the unglamorous job of taking the cobs that they had cut the kernels off of and use a butter knife to scrape the remaining kernel and juice out into the granite pail holding the delectable goodness.
I was only there in my mind for a few minutes today...
but it was a good visit...
a refreshing memory of sort...
a reminder of
days when life was slow
sat around the table
took time to know each other,
laugh with each other and
tell ancestral stories of days gone by....
I cherish the memory of my fatma's table...
lots happened there...
wonderful food...like baked ham, home grown green beans and the best
German chocolate cake I've ever eaten
was cooked and served by the hands of a woman
born in 1900.
I loved her deeply and wonder where I'd have been had I not sat at that table in her kitchen..
It was on that kitchen table that she kept her tattered bible with a piece of an envelope marking her place every day. She'd sit there first thing with her steaming coffee and I'd watch her read through her thick glasses and see her lips moving as her eyes passed through the lines of the passages.
I guess, I came to understand the depths of God's love
at that metal table,
I was fed, I was nurtured,
I was taught
I was loved
into the depths of
the wonder of family and faith and love.
I'm thankful today for a corn cob moment
to travel once again
to a place
that holds cherished memories...
juice and kernels and wonder....
a visit into a story of my past.
hope all of you
Sunday memory as well..
or that you are creating your on type of ritual..
where hearts connect,
faith is infused.
Hugs and Blessings...