They are old. They are stained. They are treasured. They are staples of all our Holyday family feasts. They are my Mother’s handwritten recipe cards.
One pre-Christmas night, nineteen years ago, my Mother concluded her most significant recipe card — her lifetime of special ingredients all mixed together to give rise to her very own entrance into Heaven.
My Mother was a gourmet cook. She put a special part of her heart into every dish she made. The flavor of no herb or spice could equal the seasoning of my Mother’s heart.
At times, Heaven and my Mother seem so very far away; but come Christmas in the family kitchen and my Mom feels right next to me, as her voice whispers in my ear, “Don’t forget ‘our’ dash of Heart”.
Uplifted in a Broken Down World 