Just like her

I'm thinking about her today. The woman who showed me that life was about more than just myself. The sweetest lady on the face of the Earth, my Nana.

As I sit here I think about the sights, the smells, the sounds I think that her kitchen was always one of my favorite places. Why?
There she stands quietly, sweetly making the meal. Be it a Pot Roast with a side salad and cooked carrots or a simple bologna and cheese sandwich, she was always serving. She never complained and always had something for my Pawpaw.
There she is, in my mind's eye, standing over by the stove, her back to me, whisking and chopping and filling the house with the yummiest smells. The small house full of the sounds of love. Love for her husband, the Faithful Preacher. Love for the Lord she has served for so many years. Love for her guest, every bit of energy gone into preparing this supper for her friends.


So many memories I never want to forget.


The goldfish pond in the backyard...
Andrew, Megan and I were playing in the backyard in the winter. The small concrete pond in the backyard had frozen over. Just not as much as we thought. Andrew kept saying that it was "solid" and Megan believed him. I of course, was a bit doubtful, but Megan, being Megan, went ahead and actually stepped out onto the ice in either faith or ignorance. Soon she was soaked from chest to toe. She hopped right out and we ran inside.
Nana told us how "silly" that was, (that was as angry as she got) quickly wrapped Megan in a towel and threw her clothes into the dryer. Boy, did she have a story to tell Aunt Jamie when she came to pick her up.

The closet...
If you ask any grandchild of James and Rosalie Maggard about 'the closet' they'll tell you, that it held a plethera of fun things. From a neat set of flat animals that clicked together and boarded Noah's Ark, to a cool little keyboard, that even had a case! There in that closet a kid could get lost for hours. And usually that was the idea.
She still has toys, they might not be the same toys, but she's making new memories for the now great-grandchildren added to the bunch.

 The tea party...

When you're born into a family of 17 cousins that all pretty much live in the same area, there's plenty of people to play with. And somehow we always seperated off into little age groups. There was Danny, he was the oldest. And then there was Amanda, then a few years younger were Me, Tamara and Andrew. So Amanda, Tamara and I always did things together, even if it was alot of immature squabbling. But sometimes, we actually all got along.

One time Nana prepared a sweet little tea party for us. We came all dressed up in our church clothes and we made (Or maybe Nana made) cupcakes and buscuits with jam. And we used the cutest little tea set and actually drank tea! She talked to us about how to act like 'ladies'. And we took pictures, although I'm not sure who took them, or where they are now. Oh well. The memory lingers on.

And then there are memories that aren't so far back. Ones that are just as precious although not so ancient.

The letters...

I wrote to my Nana in college and told her how much she meant to me. Her testimony was strong and her manner of life so undeniably Christ-like. And I wanted to be just like her.

So I sent her a letter, and addressed many things that I would like to have her advice on. I asked her questions and begged advice, citing The Scriptures. And wouldn't you know...within a month the letters started coming. She wrote a letter about each "struggle" and gave passages from the Word of God that would help me. Every month she wrote on a different topic that I had requested.

And I felt so blessed to call her mine.

There is so much about my Nana that I can't ever begin to tell the depths of her kindness, the hieghts of her compassion, the broad spectrum of her love. There are so many things she has taught me. And there could've been a lot more, had I asked.

My Father in Heaven has given me so much. Luke 12:48b "For unto whomsoever much is given, of him shall be much required: and to whom men have committed much, of him they will ask the more." He requires that I use it to His glory and I'm sure that my Nana did just that.

One day, we won't have Nana anymore. I hate thinking about it so I try not to. But it's the truth. She won't be there to tell us her story, to encourage us to do right. And it will be our turn to take up the mantle and lovingly guide.

Lord, help me to use my time wisely. To become more like You now, so that one day I'll have one or two looking up to me that will learn of You from my life.

Chicken Pot Pie

Ever had a smell invade your nostrils and send you to another place? To another time even? Months, even years can fade into the distance and in that moment everything is so real. Almost like that memory just happened.


Today, I celebrated "2 weeks of pot pie". Interested?


I stood there in the kitchen, wondering, searching. I breathed in the frosty air and let out my own dragony steam into the freezer door. "What to cook...what to cook?" I glanced at the clock on the stove, 8:10, it's green numbers sneering the lateness of the day. Where had the time gone? We'd gotten home late from a fun-filled afternoon as a family. My husband sat on the couch, hungry but pleasant. That's when it caught my eye! "The Chicken Pot Pie." I had frozen this 2 weeks before my son Will, was born.

It defrosted rather quickly, steam rising from it's plastic walls. As I opened the bag, the aroma filled my nose, and my memories. They came flooding back all at once! -The extra bag I had made to "help myself out after the baby arrived," the Pot Pie my mom had made for us five days after the baby's due date, the Turkey and Ham Pot Pie my mom-in-law made with the Thanksgiving leftovers, the Chicken Pot Pie a sweet lady from my church had brought by the house 3 days after Will's birth, 4 Pot Pie's in two weeks time.


And with all of those yummy pie's came the memories, sleepless nights and 'bili' lights, of a new-to-nursing mommy and a sleepy Preacher, of a brand-new-baby's breath and family all around, of days filled with love and weighted with loneliness all at the same time.


And with all of those memories came the tears. "Splat, splat, splat" on the cold glass topped stove. Whirling around, I looked to the baby boy. His sweet face and slobbery smile rose to meet mine.

And the tears kept falling like rain.


"I don't want to forget..." Chicken Pot Pie = Will


When I'm having a hard day with Will, or with anyone else for that matter, I want to remember that smell. That "the baby's here" smell...will help to bring me back where I need to be. Remembering what's important, remembering what's real.


And so I'm reminded that God's Word tells us that when we do right and "walk in love" our Saviour is seen and smelt, if you will, in us!
Eph 5:2 states that Jesus
"... hath given himself for us an offering and a sacrifice to God for a sweetsmelling savour."
 Our God's sees our (as the teens in our youth ministry like to say) "epic fails" and He, unfortunately, has to smell our "stinking savor" (Ecc 10:1) so many times. It's good to know that because of what Christ has done on Calvary, "we are unto God a sweet savour of Christ..." (2 Cor 2:15). Jer 31:34 says He remembers only the good things about us after we are made complete in Christ "...for I will forgive their iniquity, and I will remember their sin no more." He smells the Sacrifice, remembers His Son, and chooses to loves us.




Memories are an amazing thing...
Isaiah 49:15 "Can a woman forget her sucking child, that she should not have compassion on the son of her womb? yea, they may forget, yet will I not forget thee."


Interesting link I found:
http://health.howstuffworks.com/smell3.htm