Take this time off my hands
Idleness only feeds the flame
Take these words out of my mouth
For I can’t recall why I need to explain

Then take this binding from my limbs
Let me run and sing and
Remind me how to smile
Heal me Lord, heal me Lord for this I pray
Heal me Lord,
If only for awhile.

Take this weight I cannot bear
Lift it from upon my weary breast
Give my lungs one single cleansing breath
Just enough, just enough to lay
To lay this pain to rest

Then take this binding from my limbs
Let me run and sing, oh Lord,
Won’t you help me smile
Heal me Lord, heal me Lord for this I pray
Heal me Lord,
If only for awhile.

The Art of the Drive By Spicing

My Mom is a fantastic cook. Some of my best memories involve being in the kitchen with her when I was young. We had occasional cook-offs and bake-offs where we would each pick a recipe and then work side by side on our creations, sharing stories and giggling. Then we’d sit down and test one another’s recipe, making suggestions or just trying to out-ooooh/aaaah each other with complimentary eating noises. I know that my lifelong love affair with kitchen gadgets and exotic ingredients can be traced back to those times in the kitchen when Mom taught me the art of the “Drive By Spicing”. She never relied too heavily on recipes – My Ma knew how to wing it,and she did it exceptionally well, mixing spices and a little dash of magic when something didn’t taste quite right…and she encouraged me to do the same.  I smile to this day when she and I are in the kitchen together and she hands me a spoonful of the stovetop bounty and asks, “What does it need?” By giving me the freedom to put my stamp on those creations she taught me the value of trusting my instincts, both in and out of the kitchen.

Nowadays, you’ll find me cooking with my own kids.  They’ve both got a passion for spice, and they come by it honestly.  Number 1 Son has been a foodie since before he could tie his own shoes, and there is no need for me to even ask him, “What does it need?”, as he’s usually already hit the pantry by the time I think to ask.  Darling Daughter quietly wrests the whisk from my hand and stirs the pot in her gentle way, while simultaneously dipping a tasting spoon and asking if “maybe it needs a little something”.  They both have amazing palates, and they are adventurous and open-minded when it comes to ingredients.  Watching them at the stove fills me with a ridiculous joy, and it’s occurred to me on many occasions that perhaps that is exactly what Mom felt when we had our cook-offs.  Just pure, ridiculous joy at doing something she loved with someone she loved, who loved it too.

We live in an ever-changing world. Technology has robbed us of simplicity and the pleasure of being fully present in one another’s company.  We eat at the drive-thru, we eat in front of the TV and we eat at our desks.   But there are a few simple, tried and true things I hang onto, things I learned in the comfort of my Mother’s kitchen.  Creating something beautiful from the ingredients in the pantry is cathartic and soothing.  Feeding it to the people I love is extremely rewarding and fills me with gratitude and peace.  And lastly, family mealtimes are golden.  When Sunday rolls around and those fantastic young people I am lucky to call my children are coming for dinner, I always hope they will arrive a little bit early and join me in the kitchen.  Not because I need their help, but simply because I want to watch as they provide a Drive By Spicing.

And now I am off to make a pot of soup.