The Inscription

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Today, as my body was pulled from its heavy dose of slumber, I seemed to instantly wake with pancakes on my mind.  This is highly unusual for me.  I typically wake with thoughts about Mom.  I was saddened by the prospect that today may be the preface to that inevitable evolution in this process.  At any rate, pancakes were on my mind and I could tell it was going to be one of those cravings that just wasn’t going to evaporate into thin air.  Something concrete was required to help it dissipate.

Since I am not one to make pancakes very often, a cookbook was going to be necessary.  As I browsed through my treasured collection of recipe filled bibles, I found that I instantly went to my most recent additions in hopes of stumbling upon a new favorite concoction.  However, as I flipped through, peered at, and contemplated adjustments, it became clear that sometimes new isn’t best.  Sometimes, the old, tried and true is ultimately what one needs.  I finally reached in and carefully pulled out the very first cookbook I ever received.  It is not one that I go to often now, typically opting for the newer, more en vogue cookbooks, but I had high hopes and few other options to rely upon.

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As I laid it carefully on the counter, I found my fingers gently running over it and memories of Mama coming to me.  Although the color was fading and the pages browned, spotted, wrinkled and torn, I felt certain what I was seeking was hidden inside.  I took my time in savoring this moment as I knew exactly what I would see when I opened the cover page.  In our family for years we have included an inscription in those cookbooks that we are offering to one another as gifts of celebration.  I knew that I would find that and as my anticipation lingered just under my emotions, I opened the book and found myself staring at exactly what I feel was destined for me today, “Happy Cooking, Love Mom and Dad, Christmas 1986.”  As I looked at the signatures, I realized that Dad had filled out the inscription.  I’m not sure why this affected me so much, but I found myself absolutely loving the fact that both of them had touched this gift and left their own mark to linger.

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So as I collected ingredients and supplies, measured amounts and blended to combine, I thought about how long it had actually been since I made traditional pancakes.  I truly couldn’t even remember.  It felt like old times.  It felt like being home with Mom in the kitchen and it felt nostalgic; but most of all, it felt like the mending of a broken heart and it soon filled me with love and happy moments with Mama.

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A Good Cause

Shriner

After receiving a call from Dad asking me to join him on his upcoming trip to Minneapolis, MN for a Shriners Convention, I really didn’t know what to expect. This was typically Mom’s adventure to take with him and then I might join them later to take in some of the sights of our glorious country on an extended little road trip. I can’t remember a time when Dad wasn’t a Shriner.  I have to admit, I’ve been so impressed by how this organization works and what they stand for.  I’ve developed and even higher respect for their dedication in ensuring that the Shriners Hospitals for Children are funded to provide for children and burn victims all over our nation, and even in Canada and Mexico as well. Everyone involved is so motivated and eager to serve.  The camaraderie among the devoted members and their significant others is intoxicating. They only see each other once a year and yet it is very evident that the bond they share is strong and long lasting. So many words of comfort were extended and stories told of Mama’s impact on all of them. I could certainly feel the love they felt for her.

Last night, I was lucky enough to attend a dinner and share in their friendship. At one point, members of the group stood and spoke on various topics, mostly recognizing appreciation and hard work among the members. However, there is one man in particular that has stolen my heart. He has such a sweet demeanor and kind nature. This lovely man stood to speak the final words during this portion and focused solely on the absence of Mama and the sadness that lingered in the unspoken words floating within each of our hearts. I was taken aback and moved to say the least. His words expressed exactly how spirited, generous and loving Mama was and filled the empty air with her memory, bringing her back to us, if only just for a brief moment in time.

I’m so glad I decided to come along for the experience. To see Dad among people who truly respect his contributions and appreciate his friendship is heartwarming. I love knowing that he has such good friends. It’s been equally fulfilling to listen to words of kindness and comfort in regards to Mom. I feel like each time her name gets mentioned it’s like a little tap on the shoulder saying…”See…I’m still here.”

If you’d like to donate to the Shriners Hospitals for Children, I have included a direct link to their donation page.  Thank you for your contribution!

Shriners Hospital for Children Donation

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