It is funny the things you remember from your childhood. With my grandmother it is her fried bacon and eggs. She would make them for me on Saturday or Sunday mornings when I had spent the night.
She would fry the bacon until it was nice and crisp and then break two eggs into the bacon grease frying them up in her cast iron skillet until the white edges were crispy (more grease and crispier than what is shown below) and the yolks warm and runny.
I am allergic to pork, (and no, turkey bacon wouldn’t do) eggs and wheat, but what I wouldn’t give to sit at her table right now hearing the sizzling hot grease, smelling the bacon crisping up, the toast baking in her toaster knowing in minutes I would have the perfect eggs, salted, peppered and ready for me to dip my bacon into.
I don’t remember the conversations, but that could be because she didn’t talk much. But I can close my eyes and see her standing at the white gas stove, while I sat in my spot at the metal Formica top table waiting for her to join me.
I can see the tiny sink, counter and metal cupboards tucked into a corner, a fraction the size of most closets today. The old ice box with a small freezer on top for ice, sitting next to the wringer washer.
I didn’t get my faith heritage from my family, but I have it to pass on. My prayer is that the in addition to the warmth, love and memories that are being built, my grandchildren will also see and experience the presence of God in my life and that those memories will become the greatest treasure they have.
Even when I am old and gray, do not forsake me, my God, till I declare your power to the next generation, your mighty acts to all who are to come.
Passing on the faith and so much more. On the Journey, Jackie