I make a very tasty apple pie, but the crust usually looks like an elephant made it or maybe sat upon it. Looking so poorly, I would never take an apple pie to a potluck or (extended) family event. My husband and children knew it would look pathetic but be tasty, so ate it without comment. Eventually, I gave up trying to make my own crust and the presentation improved vastly. However, I still did not make an apple pie for anything other than home consumption.
I don’t know why I fail so consistently at making pie crust. My mother’s mom was an excellent cook who made very good pies. My mother made an excellent pie crust from a recipe she got from her mother-in-law, Grandma F. It was a laborious, 3-step process that seemed a little over the top to me. In fact, I don’t remember Grandma F’s pies being that outstanding. I don’t remember anything Grandma F cooked being that outstanding even though I remember family members talking about her cooking being very good.
I pondered that seeming lack of memory this morning. I remember my mom’s cooking quite well and I remember her mother’s cooking. Both were good cooks and I can remember specific meals that I would dearly enjoy eating again. Why can’t I remember Grandma F’s good cooking? I can remember the dining room and how she set the table. I can remember helping set the table. I can remember cleaning up after the meal, washing the dishes, putting away the clean silverware. Why can’t I remember the meals?
After several moments of hard work with the memory cells, I began to remember the meals or rather the time spent eating at the table. They were not pleasant; Grandma F had a way of haranguing you about your manners and conversation and life in general while at the table that soured the food in your mouth. I did NOT enjoy eating at Grandma F’s house!!!
* * * * *
Relationships are so vital; the home décor, the cooking, the cleaning schedule, the appearances we aim for, the car we drive, even the house we live in are ALL secondary (or maybe even less significant than that-) to the relationships we have and must nurture with those we live with and those we love.
Grandma F didn’t want you to accidently scratch a plate or place the flatware incorrectly. She didn’t want you to look anything less than perfect in public. She wanted you to make choices as she would, whether that was clothing, religious preference or a vocation. She wasn’t as concerned with relationships as she was with things and how others might view her. It wasn’t a healthy situation and it is, unfortunately, too easy to lean that way.
I need to remember this principle when it seems my children are casually strolling through life without a serious thought in their heads. Maybe he is seriously pondering something major in life that requires his whole attention. Maybe she is fighting the temptation to make a choice that feels wrong but might be the right thing. Maybe he is feeling inundated with assumed expectations from me, family, church, society. Maybe she is feeling overwhelmingly fail-ish in general and not sure how to fix it.
I don’t know their hearts like I think I do and no parent does. (“. . .for Thou, even Thou only, knowest the hearts of all the children of men.” I Kings 8:39 KJV. See also, I Samuel 16:7, Psalm 44:21 and 139:2, Proverb 21:2 and Ezekiel 11:5) Knowing their hearts isn’t necessary for me to do my job as their mother. LOVING them and showing that love in both practical and intangible ways is my job as their mother. Leaving judgment aside. Being encouraging and supportive of their choices. Letting the Holy Spirit do his work while I do mine.
Loving them – nothing better!