Mother's Day......Aaron's Way

 I was sitting at the kitchen table on this beautiful Mother’s Day morning when I heard Aaron yank his bedroom door open upstairs.  Down the stairs he lumbered, and then across the family room he walked with his usual heavy steps.  He didn’t say a word to me as I so obviously sat there, but instead loudly said, “Dad!  I’m ready!”  As Aaron walked by the table where I sat, he glanced over at me with his darting eyes.  He was nervous and had no time for small talk with Mom as he hurried by me, glancing quickly at me again and then looking away once more.  

Aaron hurried downstairs, and then soon he and Gary were both upstairs again, hurrying off to the nearby guest room.  This time Aaron didn’t even look my way, but instead just followed Dad as he kept his focus on Gary’s back.  I heard a little rustling and then back came Aaron, carrying a gorgeous flower arrangement.  He walked over to my chair while I exclaimed my surprise and my delight. 

“Oh Aaron, they’re beautiful!” I said.  “Thank you so much!”

“Uh-huh,” Aaron flatly replied to my thank you. 

By this time, Aaron was off again, walking once more toward Gary who stood in the little hallway.   He took two cards from Gary’s hands and once again came over to where I was as he handed them to me.  He was turning to head off again from all this embarrassing pleasure of Mom’s, but I reached out and pulled him toward me.  

“Wait, Aaron,” I said.  “Let me open the card from you.”

He gave a little half-hearted chuckle, not really wanting to stand there any longer, but he did stay as I opened his card.  I knew that Gary had helped him pick it out.  One of the captions had been whited out by Gary and replaced with a more appropriate word.  The card was perfect and I laughed as I told Aaron that I loved it, and I thanked him again.

 

“Uh-huh,” he repeated.  And this time I let him walk away after I grabbed a quick, uncomfortable hug………more me hugging Aaron than him responding much.  

This is how Aaron celebrates special days.  Quickly, with as little fanfare as possible, and hopefully no gushing emotion.  Yet he clearly wants to recognize special days…..just on his own terms.  Short, not necessarily sweet, and then we’re done.  

He was ready to cut out coupons that he knew were there waiting on him.  His routine needed to be restored.  And please don’t ask me to talk a lot about this Mother’s Day business, he was thinking, or to say you’re welcome and DEFINITELY not “I love you!”

OK, we’re done, right?  Can I just cut out my coupons and talk about the movie I’m watching or the one I want to watch?  But no!  Dad came in the family room and sat on the couch, and had to mention something else that we were going to do on this special day that’s getting a tad stressful.  

But going out to eat IS pretty fun, and so Aaron agreed to go with us.  Honestly, Gary and I had been unsure about taking Aaron with us, but I was very glad that Gary invited Aaron along…….and even happier that Aaron agreed to go.  We later made our way to the restaurant, where there were a lot of people there celebrating Mother’s Day just like us…….well, like Gary and me.  Not Aaron so much.  But a meal out is worth celebrating, so Aaron didn’t even complain about the crowd.

The host told us that the wait would probably be 20 minutes, so as we stepped to a quieter area to wait, Aaron asked what time it would be when we were called.  Gary gave the time that was about 20 minutes away, and immediately Aaron checked his watch.  Here we go, I thought.  If we don’t get called by just that time we might have a problem, Houston.

I told him it didn’t mean that we would be called at exactly that time.  Aaron said he knew that…..as he checked his watch.  We talked about this and that……he checked his watch.  We discussed an issue he’s been concerned about……he checked his watch.  We talked about the service dog that walked past…..he checked his watch.  I reminded him of the time issue not being exact and he said he understood……as he checked his watch.  I was getting a little nervous……and he checked his watch again.  WHY DID WE EVER BUY HIM A WATCH??!!

Finally, before the 20 minutes were up, we were called and a crisis was averted.  A frustrated Aaron is not a pleasant Aaron to have around a huge, happy crowd of Mother’s Day celebrators.  Thank you, Lord, for small blessings that to us are huge.  As we sat at our table, the server came over and we all agreed on coffee to drink.  Then immediately Aaron asked, “Do you know where the bathrooms are?”

Our server laughed and said, “Of course I know where the bathrooms are.”  I realized that she didn’t quite understand Aaron, but I knew she soon would.  So Gary took Aaron to find the bathroom per the server’s instructions and soon returned, with Aaron not far behind.  We placed our orders, and then Gary and I watched as Aaron took his napkin and began wiping up all the stray coffee and water splashes on the table.  

Soon the table was satisfactory to him, and he proceeded to scarf down his first of several cups of coffee.  Plus his omelet, his hash browns, his biscuit, his water, and more coffee…..in that order.  He only eats one food at a time until it’s gone, and then moves on to the next item, not even wanting his biscuit buttered until he was ready to eat it.  There is a method to all things, you know.  People are silly if they don’t understand this.

 

Before long, we were on Kellogg driving toward home.  His biggest concern at this point was whether to cut out the page of Burger King coupons that were in the paper or to just leave them together on the sheet.  Are we on coupons again, I thought?  

We passed by one of Aaron’s favorite places, where at least for a time he was distracted from coupons.  Resthaven Cemetery.  Not that Aaron is obsessed with death, but you have to admit that a cemetery is rather unusual and you know how he loves the unusual.  

“You know what they do at that ceremony place?” he asked.  I didn’t even correct him about ceremony versus cemetery.  I wanted to hear his insights his way.  

“What do they do?” we asked.

“They do cremations and burials and one other thing, but I don’t remember the other thing!” he exclaimed.

“Cremations are when you burn yourself!!” he then informed us.

So Gary stepped in at that point and corrected that mispereption as gently as he could, and off we drove to the house, well past the ceremony place and all those things they do there.

I talked Aaron into letting Dad take a couple pictures, barely.  He was so ready to be done with all this Mother’s Day hoopla, and hugging, and thank you’s, and mushy stuff.  Finally he was free to finish a couple lingering coupons and then bounce between his room and the rest of the house, comfortable once again in his world done his way.

 

I enjoyed calls from Andrew and Andrea, with Aaron trying to interrupt, as usual.  I’m thankful for my three children, thankful to be their mother and to have their love as they have mine.  I’m very thankful for a husband who makes it all possible, and who loves and leads us all still after all these years.

And I’m thankful for celebrating another Mother’s Day…..Aaron’s Way!  

I’ll grab another hug before bed, just watch me!

Mother's Recipes

I’m a child of the 50’s and 60’s.  It was for the most part still a time of innocence and good old fashioned values.  Growing up on North Third Street in Princeton, West Virginia was an experience that I dearly treasure.  There at nearly the top of third street sat our house, with large maple trees out front and apple trees in the back.  We were surrounded by neighbors, most with kids the age of us King kids.  I remember riding bikes, skating, playing hop scotch and jumping rope in the street, sledding in the winter down the Lockhart’s hill, climbing trees, having sleepovers with friends, and playing kick-the-can until our parents called us in at night.  It was a wonderful, carefree childhood. 

Certain sounds and smells carry me back to that time.  When I smell fresh mowed grass, I think of Saturdays when Dad or John would mow the lawn.  Then I can almost smell Mom’s pinto beans, onions, cornbread, and fresh tomatoes out of their garden.  That was a summer Saturday routine at our house.  So many of the highlights of my youth seem to end up in our kitchen where Mom worked her magic.  Our kitchen was the heart of our home.  We cooked and ate and talked and laughed and cried in that one room. 

Of all the things that my mother did so very well, I think her cooking is the thing that we and others remember the most.  Mom was an expert seamstress, a great organizer of our home, a responsible director of the school food service programs in nine WV counties in later years, a college graduate, and she was a beautiful soloist.  But oh, her cooking……

I can still see our kitchen table overflowing with her homemade rolls, ready for her to package and put in the freezer.  She cooked in bulk and cooked ahead because she was just that organized.  Down in our basement, there were two upright freezers full of all sorts of goodies and essentials.  Not only did she freeze, and also can, garden vegetables and fruits, she also made endless dozens of cookies and then froze them in empty coffee cans.  Who can count the number of trips we kids must have made to those freezers, where we would open the door, crack open the coffee can lid, and snatch a frozen cookie…….and then breathe into it as we held it in our mouth, our breath thawing each bite just enough as we ran back outside to our play.

Inside those freezers were stacks of her homemade pizza crusts, each crust separated by waxed paper from the one underneath.  There were little bags of frozen homemade pizza sauce in just the right proportion for each pizza, as well as bags of frozen toppings such as cooked hamburger or sausage, pepperoni, and cheese.  Her pizza was the best!

I’ll never forget how she would bake hamburger on large sheet pans and then cut our hamburgers into squares.  And because you shouldn’t put a square hamburger on a round bun, she made her own square buns.   She even made hot dog buns, and somehow got the recipe for Dairy Queen chili, to boot!

Who of us can forget preparing for Thanksgiving dinner?  Mom’s Cranberry Jello Salad was a staple every year.  She would let each of us kids take a turn at her food grinder, dividing up the cranberries and the whole orange slices equally between us.  We would then turn the handle of the grinder as we listened to the popping of the cranberries and the squishing of the oranges.  The experience is just not the same now with the whirring motors of our food processors.  But it all comes back to me in a rush every time I taste that salad in my own kitchen.

Sunday dinners were always a large affair, with a roast or maybe some fried chicken, and all the fixings.  Often we would have a pastor or a visiting missionary eat with us.  Then we would eat in the dining room and use her good china.  She even had autumn china that had leaves on it, which I thought was pretty amazing.  She taught us the proper way to set a table…….fork on the left, knife on the right with the serrated edge facing the plate, and then the spoon. Drinking glass on the right, above the knife and spoon.  We all knew Mom’s strict rules, too.  Do NOT take seconds until the guests have had seconds.  Do NOT put your elbows on the table.  Do NOT interrupt the conversation.  And by all means, do NOT look at each other and start laughing during dinner!!  That was the hardest one to obey, trust me!  Laughter was always just seconds away at our house.  

  

Sometimes when money was low at the end of the month, Mom would make fried mush for us to eat.  We just loved it, all buttery and soft.  Mom was embarrassed, though, and we never understood why until we were older.  And sometimes after church on a Sunday night, we would all sit around the table and drink her wonderful hot chocolate while we ate buttered toast.  

We never left for school in the mornings without breakfast.  But it wasn’t only breakfast that Mom made sure we had.  She would also have us open our Bibles with her, and she would then read the devotional Our Daily Bread with us before we left to hurry off to school.  We would follow along with the scripture in our Bibles as she read, and then we would listen to her read the devotion, and we would pray.  

I have some of my mother’s recipes.  Actually, I have many of her recipes.  I spent a year at home between college graduation and marriage, so I took lots of time at home to copy her recipes.  Most are in my hand writing.  

 

I especially treasure the ones that are in her handwriting.  They are bent and stained and are becoming hard to read as they fade with time, but I would NOT trade them for the best typed recipe in the world.  Not at all!  For her handwriting makes me feel that I have a part of her with me each time I use that recipe.  

 

Our mother gave each of us, however, the most important recipe there could ever be.  She taught us how to live, teaching us about the proper ingredients and the instructions of living life in the right way.  It went far beyond how to behave at the dinner table when company was there.  It was much more than how to cook a meal, clean off the table, and wash the dishes in the unique way that she followed………and that I bet each of us girls still follow today.

Our mother taught us how vital it was that we ask Christ to be our Lord and our Savior, which we each did at an early age.  She made sure that we knew the importance of beginning our day with time in the Bible and in prayer.  Dad left for work very early so it was up to Mom to be sure that happened……and she faithfully did just that, even when she had to go to work as well.  She taught us to consult the Bible about decisions; to let God have the final say when we wondered what to do about all the issues we faced as we grew up; and to be faithful in attending church, not letting any other activity be more important in our lives.

She taught us girls to be modest, and what to look for in a husband.  Her favorite quote, which she shared many times with me, was – “God gives His very best to those who leave the choice with Him.”  She taught us to handle life’s good times with thankfulness and the bad times with trust.  And she showed us how to handle any situation…….ANY and ALL situations…….with humor.  

Her recipes for life are hidden in our hearts, not written on a card and tucked away in a file.  Her five children, and hopefully our children, carry those values with us every day.  Those instructions are seen in our decisions, our values, our attitudes, our hopes, and most certainly in our laughter.  

Our mother doesn’t know us now.  She doesn’t remember Dad.  She is struggling with some health issues and with Alzheimer’s.  But the ingredients with which she raised us are, and always will be, a part of us.  Her life is bearing fruit in her children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren.  It’s a sweet savor, more wonderful than the smell of her fresh baked rolls.

            “She looks well to the ways of her household, and does not eat the bread of

            idleness.  Her children rise up, and call her blessed.”

Happy Mother’s Day, Mom.  We love you.