hominy

Last night before small group, I had some time to kill, so I decided I would try to find something to put together for dinner in my kitchen. It was too cold to go out, at least to go out more than absolutely necessary, and I had a kitchen full of food, so even if it had been a balmy 80 degrees (I wish), I couldn't justify driving down the street to get something else.

I opted for chicken and salad, (before you stop reading, this is not a blog post solely about what I ate for dinner...if that's what you are looking for, the images on instagram between 5 and 7 from 40% of the people you follow can satisfy that craving) and decided I should find one more thing to add to my plate.

I looked through my cupboard and freezer, and after shuffling a few things around, a can caught my eye. It was a can of hominy.

This wasn't the first time I had seen that can in the past couple of months. A while back, I was cooking dinner with a friend and asked if she liked hominy. She said she had never heard of it. I tried to explain what it was, but apparently my description was sub-par as evidenced by the look on her face seemingly screaming, "please don't tell me I have to eat that". Reluctantly I put it back in the cupboard, much to my pleasure to find it yesterday.

I love hominy. I'm not so sure if it is so much the way it tastes as it is what it reminds me of. Certain things in life have the ability to trigger nostalgia, and food, hominy in this case, is one of them. I have a strange memory. I seem to sometimes forget important facts about people and events that seem to be obvious to others, however, there are some things I always remember. You can be sure I will remember the conversations I have and the food I am fed. I'm not sure what this says about me, but it is true.

Growing up, my sister and I would take trips to my Memaw and Papaw's house. They lived in Canyon, Texas until I was in first grade and then moved ten minutes down the street from us. From that point on, trips became more frequent. Each of those visits contained good memories and of course good food. When I think about Memaw and Papaw's house, I think of pot roast, mashed potatoes, and hominy. Mashed potatoes were almost always a given, because they knew it was one of my favorite foods.

While I was eating dinner last night, hominy and all, I started thinking of all the things I miss about growing up. I miss being 5 years old, riding in the back seat with my sister, and counting cows with our Papaw. I miss needing to sit on a phone book to reach the table at dinner. I miss pretending my Memaw and Papaw's rug in the living room was a ship that my sister and I dare not let our dolls fall overboard into the water (or was it lava). I miss watching my Memaw get ready to go out and the way her perfume smelled. I miss the way she called me Kelly Ree, and I miss the way she could shop and talk better than anyone I have ever met. I miss being ten minutes down the road from my Papaw and being able to talk face to face instead of over the phone.

I miss spending half days off school with my mom and sister at the park. I miss our trips to the library and making up stories about Silly Sally and Alfredo the Elephant. I miss fighting in the bathroom with my sister in the mornings and whispering in bed on Christmas Eve. I miss rebelling with my mom and eating a banana split for lunch with a bag of jelly belly's for "dessert". I miss special weekends with my dad when my mom was away, and I miss sitting in the living room with my dad and Papaw on holidays. I miss the closeness, the meals, and the memories.

The list could go on and on. Thinking back, though, more than I miss those things I am thankful for them. I am thankful for a family who loves me with no end. I am thankful God surrounded me with people growing up who taught me about Him, laughed with me, cried with me, and supported me at my worst and at my best. I am thankful for a family who still does all of those things, even though I'm not five years old any more and live more than a couple of hours down the road. I am thankful that even though none of us are perfect and we all know that about eachother, it doesn't change anything.

As easy as it is to wish for the days of carefree childhood, I am thankful that we always go forward instead of having the option to go backward. I am thankful for pot roast and hominy and all the meals and conversations that have brought me to where I am now and shaped me to be the person that I am, not perfect, but growing and learning each day.

If the Lord blesses me with a family of own some day, I can only hope I can provide half the warmth and memories each of you have provided for me over the past 25 years. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for coming to my spelling bees, Christmas musicals and sporting events. Thank you for teaching me it's ok to let loose and eat a sundae for lunch every once in a while. Thank you for sharing your world with me and teaching me to walk with confidence into mine.

Thank you Lord, for the family you so carefully placed me in. Thank you for the love you have and continue to show me through them. Thank you, Lord, for all the future holds.

And thank you, Lord, for hominy.