I will be away from home for the next few day attending a funeral of a very dear man who was family to me – I will have limited access to the computer.
It seems cookies are a very individualized taste. Some like their cookies crunchy, some like their cookies right out of the oven; soft and gooey. There are many tastes and textures within the cookie realm. There are cake-like cookies, bar cookies, drop cookies, shaped cookies and fruit-filled or nuts mixed in the batter cookies. To most people, chocolate in the cookie dough is the same feeling as hearing a choir sing; to others only triple chocolate cookies will make a joyful sound. To many people only the cookie batter calls their name.
My long-life-friend just lost her Dad after a short but puzzling array of health problems. Her Dad was 96 and he lived a long and very satisfying life. He married, although his wife passed very suddenly years ago, he had three children and has grandchildren and great-grandchildren.
He was the type of man who could fix almost anything and found a simple pleasure in fixing a wide range of “things”. He loved music and both he and his wife participated in ballroom dancing as far back as I can remember. I would see them all dressed up; handsome in a suit and beautiful in flowing chiffon.
We were so blessed growing up in the generation where we always felt safe. We hung out together, walking everywhere in numbers, never having others think we were a “gang” or up to no good. We walked to the public pools in the summer, went trick or treating when people still gave “homemade goodies” and we went to church together. Our families knew each other and enjoyed each others company. We knew their aunts and uncles, their cousins and grandparents. We watched their homes and their puppies when they were gone. Even grown up, raising our own families, we continued to keep in touch and family BBQ’s, driving hours to spend time for each other’s celebrations. We laughed together, cried together and shared our dreams.
So, you may ask what this walk down memory lane has to do with cookies. I grew up with three brothers and a sister. Now for those of you who are math challenged that means five (5) kids. My dad worked days and my mom worked nights. After homework, I was in charge of making (you guessed it) cookies! I baked cookies to pack into the many lunch bags. My mom was a great cook but left right after dinner and did not come home from work until the early morning hours; most nights only getting a few hours of sleep. I learned to make a double batch of every kind of cookie dough imaginable. Why? Three brothers would sneak up behind me or gang up on me to eat the cookie dough before the cookies could be pressed, cut out or dropped on to the cookie tray. I became the Mrs. Field’s of cookie bakers in my house.
I lived with my life-long friend and her family for six months. During that time I, of course, made cookies. My girlfriend’s dad always said “Don’t forget to burn a batch for me”. I never forgot and always made a browned batch of cookies; perfect for milk dunking. If the cookies were placed on a plate while Mr. and Mrs. Were out ballroom dancing, by the time morning came, the plate was empty.
Forever and whenever I smell a batch of browning cookies, I will think of Mr. S. Those cookies may have been crunchy on the outside but to Mr. S browned cookies were the sweetest and best tasting.
I know Jesus welcomed Mr. S into heaven. I am sure Mrs. S was there waiting too; dressed in flowing chiffon and high heels. Maybe she was even holding a plate of burnt cookies and a glass of milk. If not, I can see both of them dancing away into eternity. Mr. S will look back at Jesus; give Him a wink and a grin and dance away.
Welcome Home Richie!
Be ye therefore followers of God, as dear children; and walk in love, as Christ also hath loved us, and hath given Himself for us an offering and a sacrifice to God for a sweet smelling savor. (Ephesians 5: 1-2 KJV)