Joy and I spent a Saturday evening at a Family Fall Festival at a church around the corner.
It was at a church that we used to attend.
It was SO very nice to be able to hug necks
and stand and chat with friends
whom we haven’t seen in a while.
I wondered if they were uncomfortable talking to me.
We attended church there for several years.
I don’t believe that I’ve been there since becoming a single mom.
Few people spoke to me,
until I first approached them.
But once approached, they were open and responsive,
friendly and talkative.
And I thought of myself:
How often do I not know what to say?
And so … I don’t say anything at all.
I’ve really tried to help God push me out of this place
where so many of us spend our lives …
for fear we’ll say something “wrong”
when just saying something
if far better than
It’s a tricky thing … knowing what to say and how and when to say it.
One of the activities offered was a cake walk.
And walk I did!
Round and round
until I won a cake.
There were many goodies to choose from,
but I thought I’d share which one I chose.
I looked over the cakes with fancy wrappers
or those placed in decorative packages,
to reach for the bundt cake
sitting on a red and gold Christmas paper plate
there on the table at a Fall Festival celebration ….
It was tightly wrapped in saran wrap.
It had a label that looked like a Christmas tag
or part of an old Christmas card
with gold trim on the edges.
This tag was attached by medical tape ….
not the kind that is easy to remove…
the kind that mama’s buy today for toddlers
because we plan ahead to keep from hearing howls
when a bandage has to be removed.
But the tape was older kind,
that is thick
and very tacky …
hard to remove
leaving a layer of sticky goo on your skin.
It tugs at hairs
with sharp prickles
when a wound needs to be uncovered.
But, look at those words?
They are written by a hand that is aged,
don’t you think?
I don’t believe those fingers write often any more.
That hand has a slight tremble.
Can you see it?
And why this cake?
Because I knew it was probably baked
by some sweet lady
that used her mother’s recipe
that called for flour,
and cream cheese.
But, no cake mix.
I knew it would be scrumptious.
And delectable it is.
It melts in your mouth.
The icing is sweet and nutty
forming a gentle crust
on the peaks
and in the valleys
of this gentle, delicious cake.
It reminds me of my own sweet Mama,
my daddy’s Mom, Odessa.
I do not ever remember going to Statesboro
to visit her
without having the aroma of
sweet, warm, fresh
envelope me as I entered her home.
I remember that the recipe called for a
pound of butter
and that it always seemed to have a “sad streak”
(where the cake fell)
when the moon was full.
Thinking about my sweet Mama,
her delicious pound cake
and the yummy cream cheese pound cake
under the glass cake globe on my hutch
make me smile.
Handmade, homemade, old-family-recipe cake
that isn’t made from a cake mix
makes me happy.
What makes you happy this crisp November Monday morn?