 |
| L-R: Iris, co-chair Jeanette Farley, Nancy Schliebe, Lois Koltunowicz |
For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believes in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life. John 3:16 KJV
In search of Mom’s Pecan Sandie cookie recipe, I flipped through the “DESSERTS” section of my blue, tattered box. A Christmas gift from our three girls in the early eighties, the lid disintegrated years ago.
I found the card in
the very back where I placed it last December for easy access. Every year, I
barely recognize my penmanship of forty years ago compared to my cursive today.
Desserts occupy
more than 50% of the box’s contents, which represents my favorite course in a
meal. However, I’ve also abused my Quiche Lorraine, Mexican Skillet, and Chicken
Fricassee recipes.
For these dishes most
influenced our family table and history. For instance, Kelly, my California daughter,
once suffered the stomach flu after I served Mexican Skillet for dinner. To
this day, she cannot think Mexican
Skillet without gagging.
Then again, her father
and younger sister still crave the simple blend of elbow macaroni and hamburger
(or ground venison), flavored with chili powder, homegrown canned tomatoes, and
sour cream.
And no savory
flavor satisfies our hunger like hot biscuit steamed in lemony Chicken
Fricassee sauce.
Yet, Mom’s Pecan
Sandie shortbread with my chopped chocolate chip addition remains the supreme Christmas
cookie in my household.
A tradition, I carried
my Christmas cookie tin to our small Seven Ponds Friends of Herb meeting last Friday.
After we assembled fresh, festive decorations for the building, we cleaned up
our mess and brewed herbal tea.
L-R: Iris' tin bucket of Pecan Sandies, Jeanette's Golden Cups, Nancy's Caramel Walnut Cookies
Aware of the awful
losses within a local community, we shared our sweets and memories they signify—Betty
Crocker’s Caramel Walnut Refrigerator Cookie created with the working mother in
mind.
And Golden Cups
our group’s co-chair learned to master with a sister in their mother’s kitchen where
they pressed the dough into mini-cupcake tins. She later embellished the walnut
filling with tiny holly and berries for her children.
We lifted one
another with blessings of long-lived flavors and meaning. We dared speak our
sorrow for the parents of the lost.
For in the midst
of oppressive darkness, we evoked the Christmas story and the goodness and
light given to us in our childhoods.
God so loved us that
He gave us our parents, and His only begotten Son that if we believed in Him we
wouldn’t perish but have everlasting life.
A life that perpetuates
from a tin bucket my mother purchased for me after a special Christmas Day—all
her children and grandchildren gathered within her Kentucky home for supper,
fruitcake, and Pecan Sandies.
Gifts given with
love, purpose, and longevity.
None of my family
foresaw that Christmas Day would be the last we would share with our daughter Becky.
Dear Reader, I
believe God sent His Son into the world to heal our brokenness, not condemn us.
May
the eternal light of the babe Jesus bless you with peace, joy, and salvation.
