The Soul of The Kitchen

How will we be fed?



I recently had the opportunity to share with a young friend of mine, Jenny the art of making bread. I say art although I should say art and science. It truly is a scientific process that is guided by the artisan. As a young child I remember standing on a wooden stool built by my Grandpa Long so that we grandchildren could stand next to Grandma and help her prepare food.

Grandma Long was a tender loving woman who could certainly rule with an iron fist. Her day really revolved around taking care of people. She would help with people in the community as well as the church. She was a strong Christian woman and as I remember her she was always doing things to make her home beautiful and touch the lives of those around her.

Although I have no memory of ever making bread with my Grandma Long there were many other things that we shared. She was an everyday cook, nothing too extravagant, but always hearty. She was a baker/ pies, cakes, and cookies were her specialty. Oh, the cookies that came out of that kitchen.

Grandma Long believed that you should put your heart into the food, which you were giving to make it a gift for those around you. It was very important to her that she shared what she knew with us to feed our souls and spirits with the things that she knew, so that they would then live inside of us and we too could enter the circle of feeding others. She would sing while she cooked, and teach you along the way. She always let you do something so that you felt like you were a part of the preparation. Then at dinner she would always say she couldn’t have done it with out you. It made us feel so proud.

My Grandmother Norris lived much farther away from us. Visits with her were also a delicious experience. As a devout Christian woman she would often quote scriptures to you in any given circumstance to make her point. Now if she started humming it was not a good thing.

She was an excellent scratch cook, just off the top of her head and could can anything. She was also an accomplished baker.

Grandmother Norris however was never much for allowing you to help she insisted on doing everything herself. So to learn from her was to ask as many questions as she would consider answering and then never take your eyes off her movements. It was very important to her that she get full acknowledgment of the end result. Acknowledgment well deserved mind you, she was just not much of a team player. Perhaps this is because my granddaddy died very young and she had to go to work and she chose to live life alone. I imagine if you are the only one doing it then to share your space might be difficult.

Grandmother Norris talked about the importance of having quality ingredients, “you can’t expect quality if you use junk”, she would say. Her specialties were Christmas fudge, fried chicken and pies, gorgeous pies. Her instructions were clear, “be ready, have all your supplies out and keep quiet”. Please don’t misunderstand the picture that I am painting both of these women touched my life in an amazing way and I dearly love them both. Their words continue to speak to me even today although they have both since passed on.

I can be transported in a moment back to their presence and the experiences with them and I can still hear them teaching me and speaking into my life the daily bread of life. They taught me that God was a regular part of their life and that you could talk to Him any time you wanted to. It would take me well into my 30’s to begin to understand the power of what they had given me. These amazing experiences had fed my soul and continue to be a mainstay even now.

There have been many women in my life along the way, but few daughters have the privilege of saying that their mother is “Martha”. That is really not my mother’s name (her name is Helen) but it could have been. She is an amazing homemaker and always has been. I never remember a day in my life that my mother was not in the kitchen at some point whipping up something amazing for us to consume. It is how she loved us. She is most at home making or doing for others. Whether it is at the artist canvas, the sewing machine, with the knitting needles, crafting, in the kitchen, the garden or simply at the kitchen table cup in hand, my mother has dedicated her entire life to enriching the lives of others.

My mother is an amazing Christian woman who has shared with countless women along the way the true love of the Lord and His saving grace. She is not one to brag about her accomplishments although there really are far more than I could list here. Hers is more of a journey to plant inside of the human race itself. Her hearts desire is to leave, if but a fragment of joy and hope in the hearts and souls of mankind.

Now being in the kitchen or project table with my mother is like a dance. You can stay as long as you don’t step on her toes. And you must be ever aware that she is the leader.

My mother would sit for hours pouring over cookbooks, planning menus and shopping lists for the week’s upcoming events and opportunities. This was like a giant study hall, please come in but don’t talk too much. She would gladly answer your questions but in her own time. So you learned patience as well.

Now when the project began in the kitchen for instance you better be listening it would be quick and concise. She would allow your help as long as you did not fall behind. Timing is everything in my mother’s kitchen. But this was a dance worth working for. You could learn about the reasons for making a plate colorful and how that also made is good for you. Perhaps she would teach you about gardening and why we plant certain things together. The entire journey seed to harvest was a glorious thing to behold. All for that final moment of pride to stand in the doorway of the pantry and gaze upon the shiny glass jars and their colorful contents. All prizes of the season’s hard work.

These women taught me about the necessity of the daily feeding. I am not just talking about sitting at the table I am talking about your heart, soul, mind and body.

I was teaching Jenny about the art of bread making and specifically creating sourdough starter. I was explaining to her that the number one thing to remember in making starter is that if you do not feed it at regular intervals with the proper ingredients it will simply die. Now you can place it in the refrigerator where it will go dormant, however when you are ready to make bread with it you must plan ahead, remove it from the refrigerator and feed it prior to being able to use it.

This really is how our Lord is teaching us. We must enter into His presence and word each and every day to eat of the daily bread of life. We must sit at His feet and listen, learn to dance with Him and never be afraid to ask questions. He too will answer in His own perfect timing. We must not question His methods as they are proven and He is the Master.

These women have taught me the laws of living through the art of feeding. It truly is in the preparation. For if your preparation is hasty your end result will not be excellence.

I have lived a life of honor to have had and continue to have this kind of influence in my life. It is the voices of those women who paved the road of my journey and lay the foundation of my life that I now honor in these precious moments of teaching the next generation.

We all have something to give, something to pass on and it all has great value. I will continue to take pride in being a great homemaker. I will not grow faint at the jokes made on my behalf, nor the sneers at the idea of doing it myself from scratch. I know that there is great honor in the labor of love. I cherish the privilege to speak into the lives the Lord leads before me.

There will never be a day that there are no meals eaten. My hearts desire would be that we begin to work as a society towards the day when those meals will be eaten at a table filled with those we love. I pray that we will once again gather around and enjoy the labor of love that went into the preparation and share the ingredients of living, that these conversations that take place around the table can restore the frayed fibers of a society that spends entirely too much time in the drive through.