Sunday Dinners in the south. Where the family gathers at grandma's house for a huge eclectic meal after church services, followed by sports on the television and a rambunctious card or board game at the kitchen table. Or a backyard softball/volleyball game and some mud riding.
We enjoy them around here on occasion - usually once a month or so. But that is a rarity compared with how I was raised. We spent pretty much every Sunday Dinner gathered around the table at Grandma Fulton's or scrounging for an empty spot on the hearth at Grandma Jenkins'. (Unless it was below 60 degrees outside....then Grandpa would have that fireplace blazing so hot you couldn't get near the hearth without firefighter gear on!)
So it was that I found myself up early on Sunday morning trying to get a roast in the oven before church. (Confession: I never made it to church. I don't know how my grandmother's did it EVERY Sunday while making it look so easy.)
I pulled out the gray oblong roaster, washed the potatoes and loaded them in the bottom, seasoned and seared the roast and turned to begin peeling the carrots. As I watched the thin orange shavings building up in the sink, I caught the sight of my own hands moving swiftly over each surface with Grandma Fulton's old silver peeler.
My heart filled with love while my mind filled with memories. I am so thankful for the heritage the Lord blessed me with. And I am often taken by surprise at what evokes the strongest memories. It is most often "the little things".
And it makes me wonder, "What will evoke those memories of us when our grandchildren have grandchildren of their own"?
I'm sure it will be "the little things" that we hardly take notice of while they are happening.
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1 year ago