The car pulled onto the dirt and pebble drive, passed Granddaddy’s lumber mill, and slowly wrapped around the little fishing pond. My mother applied the brakes, stopping short of my grandparent’s carport.
Like many houses in the Tennessee hills, the carport’s use was for something other than cars. Instead, it was to house the gliders, chairs, and plants accompanied by a braided rug covering the concrete. This outside haven of mental warmth was for a watermelon feast, playing board games in the fresh air, and the welcome station for all guests.
My summer vacation always began with a two-week stay at my Grandpa’s (grandmother’s) house on the Cumberland Plateau in Tennessee.
Those days I stayed with my grandparents were the highlight of every summer. And, upon my arrival, every June, sitting on the windowsill was my favorite: a cooling banana pudding.
Homemade lard biscuits with grape jelly, freshly cured pork tenderloins, fried fresh fish, pot roast, and garden vegetables were just some of the treats that adorned my plate daily.
When the cousins came to visit and play, Grandpa had each grandchild their favorite dessert and drink in the refrigerator.
“Why do you cook as much as you do, Grandpa?” I would ask.
“Well, honey, that’s one way I show love,” she would say as she wiped her floured hands on her apron.
Grandpa began her Sundays at 4 a.m. She would cook a pot roast and fried chicken and prepare the side dishes before we all left for church.
“Why do you need to get up so early?” I would question.
“Well, honey, it’s because I must get to church to give love to God,” she would answer as she untied her apron.
For all of us blessed to call her our grandmother or great-grandmother, no one doubted that she wholeheartedly loved God and us.
Mike is turning 70 this month. Mike and his wife are our friends who live down the street. We gathered, along with three other couples, for a little birthday celebration just north of Atlanta in the mountains.
I asked his wife, Ricki, what kind of cake Mike would like me to bake for his birthday.
“He likes pies. But don’t go to the trouble. No one is eating sweets these days!” Ricki responded.
“What kind of pie does he prefer?” I asked, ignoring the statement about eating sweets.
“Chocolate and key lime,” she finally said, knowing I was oblivious to her objections.
Everyone that knows me knows you will not stop me from making a dessert. I put on my apron, get my flour out, and make a mess, just like my Grandpa. While I stood in my kitchen, stirring the chocolate and grating lime zest, I felt my grandmother’s spirit, as I always do, while making something special.
All the friends that accompanied us, including my husband, thought me foolish for making the two pies that Mike loved.
They all knew they would go to waste. “No one is eating sweets these days.” They reiterated. I chose to ignore their foolishness.
I put three candles in each pie and handed them to Mike as the group sang the birthday song. His eyes lit up when I told him one was Key Lime topped with peaked meringue and the other, Chocolate Cream, with the same fluffy topping.
It was funny how all those folks who don’t eat sweets anymore were fighting over the last pieces — not a crumb left in either pie plate.
The birthday boy called me a few days later.
“Lynn, those pies were fantastic! I can’t tell you how much I appreciated the trouble and the time you took to make my birthday special.”
My Grandpa taught me a valuable lesson all those years ago. When you care for someone, you must show that you do. It is not just in words; it is in actions like making pies and going the extra mile to make someone feel special and loved.
My granddaughter visits me every summer, and I always have her favorite foods in the house. She is a fantastic little baker and loves making special treats for her family and friends while wiping her floured hands on her handmade apron.
One day, when she was very young, I had her favorite dessert on the counter when she arrived for her summer visit.
“Grandma, why do you like to cook so much?” she questioned.
“Well, it’s my way of showing how much I love you,” I replied as she stared at the banana pudding, waiting for her.
Grandpa’s precious love and lessons live on.
__________
Lynn Walker Gendusa is a regular columnist on NowHabersham.com. To enjoy more of her inspirational work about faith, home, family, life, and love, click here.
