Over the River, Through the Woods, and Grandmother’s Coming Here Instead

I was at Drug Emporium on Sunday afternoon, and the big display of Halloween candy had been stripped and a few rows of Christmas candy had been put out. At Wal-Mart, Christmas decorations are stacked and hung. You know what that means! Thanksgiving is just around the corner!

I’ve got five extra people coming for Thanksgiving. Well, five adults plus Baby Peter. Then a couple of days later, four more adults and two more babies will arrive. So, I’ve got some work to do.

On my calendar for first thing last Monday morning–“make cornbread.” That’s the kind of dressing my mother always made. I’ve never been a fan of dressing (my sister loves it), but it’s tradition, and other folks eat it. I really want to get as much ready as possible, and cornbread crumbs can wait in the freezer until baking day. And, if there’s a big ol’ pan of hot cornbread, I might could have some for breakfast. I pulled out Mother’s recipe to see how much I needed for the dressing. “Five cups of crumbled cornbread.”

But, oh no! I’d forgotten to check the cornmeal. I opened the cupboard with a cringe. Whew, there was cornmeal. I sort of weighed the box in my hand to see if it felt like enough to make a double batch of cornbread, and yes, it felt heavy enough, and, oohhh! I felt the edge of the round box slipping from my fingers and before I could recover, SPLAT! The box fell to the floor, popped open, and cornmeal spilled out. It wasn’t much, though. But now, I had to interrupt the cornbread making. I thought about the the little cordless vacuum, but really, I sort of needed to clean the kitchen floor anyway, so I went and got the big vacuum cleaner. I used the attachment part and slurp, the cornmeal disappeared from the floor.

Back to measuring and mixing. I got out a bowl and measuring cups, and with great joy, opened up the cabinet with the new spice holder. (If you don’t remember it, you can go here.) I could see and find everything so easily. Sometimes I open up that cabinet just to see how nice it looks.

There’s enough flour, enough oil, enough baking powder and salt, enough milk, and, augh, are there enough eggs? When I pick up the carton, it’s light. Only one egg, and I need two. But, wait, wait, last week, I took two eggs to church to make muffins and we only needed one and maybe, yes, maybe, that extra egg was in the fridge, still in the container I used to transport the eggs to church, and YAY!! I’ve got that extra egg, not cracked or leaking or anything.

Mix it up, put it in the pan, pop it in the oven, set the timer, it’s a go.

Can hardly wait for the ding!

I cut the barely cool cornbread and crumbled and crumbled and crumbled. There were enough cornbread crumbs for the five cups I need for the dressing. (Some years I double the dressing recipe. This year, one recipe’s worth should be enough. My sister won’t be here.)

After making the five cups of crumbs, there were some pieces left to pour chili on top of later, for David’s dinner. And, for me, I had cut off the edges (because really, they don’t crumble as well as the inside parts), but didn’t need them for the dressing. Hooray! Crunchy cornbread crusts for breakfast! MMMMMM.

As they continued their journey, Jesus came to a village and a woman called Martha welcomed him to her house. She had a sister by the name of Mary who settled down at the Lord’s feet and was listening to what he said. But Martha was very worried about her elaborate preparations and she burst in, saying, “Lord, don’t you mind that my sister has left me to do everything by myself? Tell her to get up and help me!”
But the Lord answered her, “Martha, my dear, you are worried and bothered about providing so many things. Only a few things are really needed, perhaps only one. Mary has chosen the best part and you must not tear it away from her!”
Luke 10:38-42 (PHILLIPS)

I must admit, when I hear this story, I always side with Martha. That’s exactly what I’d be doing, hurrying around in the kitchen, if Jesus came, or if the preacher came, or if you came. I’m trying to keep in mind, as I prepare for the holidays, both of them, to be sure that I don’t let the preparations become a chore instead of a pleasure. And nothing gives me quite as much peace these days as having the necessary cornbread crumbs in the freezer THREE WEEKS before I need them!

I can imagine, though, that if it were my sister involved, and she had to decide between sitting at Jesus’ feet and having dressing, it might have been a tough call. She’d have probably said, “Lord, come on into the kitchen with me. I’ve got to crumble up some cornbread, but I don’t want to miss a word of what you have to say.”