The simple pleasures of mommy’s homemade biscuits
By Bobby R. Henry, Sr.
And the LORD God formed man of the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living soul. Genesis 2:7 (KJB)
As I was lying in bed wrestling with sleep anxieties, I was finally able to fall asleep in the thoughts of my mother Geneva’s homemade biscuits.
The daily walks of life can be so burdensome at times for all of us no matter who you are. From the president to the pauper we all find ourselves in some shape, form or fashion of hodgepodges of dilemmas.
Life’s Pandora Boxes are readily offered to us and we do take our turns at finding out just what is in store at Hell’s gateway.
It seems like when we make our choices – good, bad or indifferent, I be doggone if the contemplations don’t come to visit us like Casper and not the friendly ghost either, in the middle of the night.
Have you ever heard people say, especially ‘church folk’, “the Lord always comes to visit you in the middle of the night”? It makes me wonder if the Lord is not there fighting on our behalf against the ghost of our not so good choices.
Yeah, “He may not come when you want Him to, but He is always right on time”.
So there I was tossing and turning like a washing machine full of dirty clothes, going through the full cycle, praying for the rinse.
Even if it’s in the turmoil of the cleaning process, He’s right on time.
Whatever the conflict was, I could smell the aroma of my mama’s biscuits being baked.
As I nestled in the anticipation of the aroma of freshly baked biscuits, I could see my mother in the kitchen as she kneaded the dough, smiling and humming in the comfort of knowing that we would be enjoying those biscuits as much as flies in buttermilk.
I relished in the thought of the entire process of making those biscuits, from the moment that mama thought about making them, to her gathering all of the ingredients and mixing them, to her lovingly playing with the dough, forming the biscuits and placing each one in its own unique place in those old beat up pie pans.
With each step of the process, the first was the most important. She had to go back to where she learned from and then she so ever lovingly completed the process.
Them biscuits outweighed any mental conflict that was keeping me from sleeping. I guess God was there in the making of the first biscuit and He continues to be there, now.
No matter the ghosts that visit, there is a welcoming Spirit that can bring comfort in the simple pleasure of a mama’s homemade biscuits.
In order for the biscuits to be completed, they must go through the heat of the oven. The three Hebrew boys endured the scorching of an oven heated seven times hotter than normal and they came out just fine.
“Lord I thank you for the heated ovens. I thank you for the baking hands, but most of all dear Lord I thank you for the Master’s plan”. God bless the biscuit makers.
Bobby R. Henry, Sr.