Dinner at Mama's

Just before I dig in

Picture this: fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, creamed corn, fried squash, green beans, and a yeast roll.  Not your thing?  What about a low country boil, or maybe fajita nachos?  You never know what's on the menu when you come in from work to eat dinner at Mama's.  Just to nip any confusion in the bud, our three meals are breakfast, dinner, and supper.  Lunch is something you eat out of a pail or on a picnic.

Mama in action

Mama's talent in the kitchen is something to behold.  Many a day she has walked into the kitchen at 11:30 and turned out a mouthwatering meal by 12 o'clock.  That 12 o'clock mark is very important too.  There's something about us Smiths, we like to eat at noon on the nose.  We know she will have it ready, and she knows we will be there or be on the way. Most days she calls around mid-morning to see who all she needs to cook for that day.  It ranges from just her and Daddy, to around 15 hungry mouths during watermelon harvest.  That's besides those that may just drop by or get invited to dinner by Daddy.  Many a crop insurance agent, tractor mechanic, landlord, and preacher has put his feet under Mama's table.  She always seems to have just enough.

Dinner at Mama's means a lot more than just good food.  It is also a time of talking and laughing.  We all catch up on what's been happening that morning on the farm, how the crops are looking, and what the chance of rain is for that afternoon.  Mama tells us what's going on with the rest of the family.  The kids show us their latest trick, and we all laugh and tell them how great it is.  What a great blessing it is for our family to get to share this time together almost every day.


Then, before you know it, dinner time is over.  The dishes are put in the washer, the scraps are carried out to the dog, and the leftovers are put in the refrigerator for supper.  It's time to go back to work on your tractor.  As you start back down the row, you wonder why we can't all take a nap after dinner every day like Pa did when we were little.  You feel like you will never be hungry again, but at the same time you wonder if tomorrow will bring grilled pork chops or lasagna.  Whatever it is, it will be good.


Happy Mothers Day to my mama, Janice!  We love you!






Now it's your turn!  Do you get to eat with your family often, or do you have memories of meal times in the past?  What about your Mama, is she a good cook?  Not all Moms are, unfortunately!

Another Sunday Down South

I'll be eternally grateful to my parents for many things.  One in particular is the teaching that Sunday is a day of rest.  The only time I ever remember working on Sunday was in March 2009, after a 6" rain on Saturday night that nearly destroyed a field of plastic mulch to be planted in watermelons.  The proverbial ox was in the ditch, and if we didn't get the edges of the plastic covered with dirt, the high winds that day would have destroyed the field by Monday.  Not only did we work all day with shovels in our hands, about 75 neighbors and church family turned out to help us too.

That, however, is the exception to the rule.  We go to church twice on Sundays, so it's not like we lay around in the bed all day.  Matter of fact, some Sundays wind up being as busy as any other day.  Get the kids ready for Sunday School, go to Grandma's after church to eat lunch, maybe take a little Sunday drive or a nap, get ready for church again, and then hurry home to get in bed before another busy week.

Still, with all the busy-ness, Sunday has a different feel to it.  There is a slowing down of the state of mind.  There is no rush, no deadline, nowhere else to be, nothing else that absolutely must be done.  For many weeks out of the year, Sunday is the only day of the week that we get any actual face time with our friends.  It's a day to spend some much needed time away from the farm; to realize that there are other things to think about besides how dry it is, how high fertilizer is, and how cheap prices are.  It's a day to actually spend some quality time with your wife and kids.  Most importantly, it is a day of worship; a time to reflect on the many blessings of life and be thankful.

I feel a certain sympathy towards those who choose to work seven days a week, and those that have no choice in the matter.  When do they recharge their batteries?  How do they make it day after day without a break?  I've never known that feeling, and I hope I never do.  Let me encourage you; if at all possible, take a break this Sunday.  Go to church, go visit your family. Just slow down a little, sit on your front porch, and drink some of the nectar of life (flavored with lemon).  That's how we do it Down South.