Outside, crisp, white, winter snow blankets lawns. Inside grandma’s house, warmth and love. Her desire to please family manifests itself with Christmas aromas wafting throughout, greeting hungry tummies, and welcoming hugs. Every touch resonates causing a swelling within her breast flowing upwards. She briefly closes her eyes. Behind glistening blue windows to the soul, sadness looms, banished for now from dear ones until later when darkness accompanies her private, lonely hours before dawn. This time of year, a wonder for children and many adults alike must prevail. Pleased with her efforts, she smiles in anticipation of joyful acceptance.
A child’s fantasy land. Salivary glands signal flavourful anticipation as wide-eyed children gaze upon their choices. Containers fill the table pleasantly tempting the Christmas palate. Jujubes, hard candies, Smarties, licorice, jelly beans, sours, mini M&Ms, gummies, several types of sprinkles and icing tubes displaying many colours awaiting eager hands, and mouths.
Saturday, December 24, 2016 dawns early with preparations for traditional family expectations, homemade cinnamon buns and gingerbread cookies. One a staple for breakfast, the other a late afternoon delight. Each year bakes different shapes and sizes. Trains, reindeer, butterflies, people, trees, stars, angels and bears. Six choices this year, enough for everyone to have at least one of each. From youngest to eldest, creative decorating brings messy fingers, smiles, laughter and faces full of concentration. Only one rule–be mindful of brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, nephews, and nieces when collecting your chosen sweets. (Of course, refills available, however not an infinite supply today.) A good time, family! Feelings of satisfaction settle while observing children and grandchildren enjoy each other’s company. Every parents’ wish — health, happiness and memories of the meaning of family.
Darkness falls, a lonely bedroom beckons. Christmas Eve, for the first time in 38 years without her best friend, help-meet, patriarch of their family and island companion, draws to a close. She writes: “I am feeling so sad now and thinking… Our plans to work in the temple together, go back to Hawaii, do things with our grandchildren are gone. I am glad we did these things already.”
Sunday, December 25 — “Very difficult day. Pretty much spent the day alone. I didn’t even read my scriptures. I can’t ask for him back, it is too late. It was on December 2 at 11:25 a.m. when he took his last breath and passed away. I cannot sleep very well. I don’t want to sleep. Each day I know he is not going to be sitting in his chair.”
Monday, December 26 –“Why am I looking back seeking answers? I have lost my husband and my guilt is strong. How can I be forgiven? Am I feeling sorry for myself? I wasn’t there when he was moved to the Intensive Care Unit. The first day I did not go to the hospital, as per his instructions. He wanted me to go home after work instead and get some rest. I listened to him.”
Saturday, December 31 — “Tonight I sit alone in Alan’s chair crocheting and watching a historical fiction show set in England’s 1400s. I hope Alan is not disappointed in me.” Happy memories slowly enter, contemplating a moment in time, our first date and New Year’s Eve together when we won a dance trophy. Keep the vision…but she drifts back into reality.
Life happens… and so does gingerbread. Time provides moments to savour as smell and textures play a magical game on taste buds of the tongue. Sometimes tempting rejection reflexes, other times begging to hold in place as long as possible by slow sucking or exercising a measure of self-discipline allowing goodness to dissolve of its own accord, absorbing the tiniest detail. Other times, little bites to prolong the experience battle against wanting to gobble up every morsel, permitting digestion’s resolution of hunger or unpleasantness to void the inevitable, a process in time. Sweet, salty, bitter, spicy, bland, sour; this is my life, my analogous logic. Hard, soft, mushy, soft, spongy, tender, crunchy, silky, jelly-like, grainy, crisp, flaky, smooth, tough, hot, cold, lukewarm; this too is my life, symbolically.
Savouring the richness of life, like food, requires an appetite, conquering inhibitions and permitting oneself to trust. Deliciously satiating to my spirit, mind and heart are memories living in the past. Opening, chewing, tasting, and swallowing, one food at a time, must precede any further opportunity to experience the offerings designed to meet my heartfelt needs at a particular time. Resisting forcefully the mounting urge to reject the tangible, garnished with an ache piercing all my senses, slows consumption at most inopportune times. Acquired taste might be necessary. Baking with life’s ingredients, ofttimes challenging, sometimes unwelcome, but rewarding. Desiring to thoroughly relish ‘gingerbread’ moments fills hunger pains despite unpleasant textures and savours, but this too shall pass. Opposition and opposites, purpose in all things.
Do you feel sensory warmth as ginger and cinnamon seep from the oven through the air, sending scents of warm spices up your nostrils, activating mouth-watering reflexes, bringing appreciative grins, consideration of the process, and determinate devouring of this sweet treat when baked and, cooled for a brief time?
How do you inhale the warm, aromatic offering for soul-filled nourishment? Do you nibble at the edges, cautiously considering your worth or ability to partake such a delectable treat or, with gratitude accept the moments that bring remembrance and a glimpse into what lies ahead? Choices…What am I to do now? …Gingerbread!!
Life happens . . . so does gingerbread.
Gingerbread Cookies
Our family’s traditional favourite from Scovil Bakery in Nauvoo, Illinois
1 cup sugar
1 cup molasses
3/4 cup oil or lard (I use canola or vegetable oil)
1/2 cup hot water
Combine sugar, molasses and oil, using the measured hot water to rinse molasses out of cup.
Add 2 lightly beaten eggs
Mix together the following:
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp salt
1 tsp cinnamon
1 heaping tsp ginger
6 cups of flour.
Pour liquid ingredients into dry. Combine. Use more flour if needed. Batter should hold together, not be overly moist or dry.
Refrigerate dough. Roll out on lightly floured surface. Cut with cookie cutters.
Bake at 350 degrees for 10 minutes or until lightly browned. Sprinkle with light dusting of sugar while warm, unless choosing to frost these soft cookies.
Ice and decorate if desired.
Makes anywhere between 3-6 dozen cookies depending on the size of cookie cutters used.
Life Happens... 