My Faith and Joy… and Boys!

Susie is on a soup-making kick, so she was very excited when I told her a while ago that I was going to be making soup for dinner.  She decided she wanted to make her own version, so I got her out a bowl and some random ingredients.  I figured she would throw it all in, stir it around and then pour it down the drain.  However, she took the whole process very seriously, watching me as I chopped cooked chicken and vegetables and added salt and pepper to my pot.  She did the same, while also pouring in cup after cup of cold water.  When I told her it was time for dinner, she carefully carried her bowl to the table and announced she was giving it to Danny to eat for his meal.  And bless his heart, he ate it!  Now that’s brotherly love for you – eating cold, watery, peppery vegetables just to please your sister!

Jimmy took this picture of his little brother last week.  No wonder Danny is looking at the camera with such adoration!

My mother’s love is zucchini bread, faithfully made for our family for decades.  Zucchini bread that takes me back to my childhood, where she made sure my sister and I were loved and cherished and nurtured and encouraged.  Zucchini bread that my mom would wrap up and give to neighbors, offices, hospitals, anywhere she could be of help.  Zucchini bread that made any celebration more delicious, any heartache more bearable, any day more extraordinary.  Zucchini bread that she passed on to me so I could make for my family.  She filled the baking ritual with love and affection, so that every time I make it, I think of her with joy.  And when she flies across the country to be with me and support me in this daily adventure of motherhood, she brings with her able hands that once again prepare zucchini bread for my family (this time with added little helping hands in the kitchen!).  And of course, it isn’t just the zucchini bread.  It’s also the tuna fish casserole, the slice-and-bake cookies, the handmade Halloween costumes, the brown bag lunches with bagels and cream cheese, the French braids (and the re-done French braids after I made her start over because there were too many “bumps”), the trips to the shoe store that I so desperately hated but desperately needed, the hugs when I got up in the morning, when I got home from school, when I went to bed, and when I just needed one, the sing-alongs to James Taylor CDs, the lullabies, the cheering from the sidelines, the endless chauffeuring to soccer games and study sessions…it’s the little things that were really big things.  I know now, as a mother, that she did them with more of her heart and soul than I ever could have understood.  It wasn’t just zucchini bread.  It was love.