For some reason, homemade food seems to taste better on cold winter days. Hot soup, a pot roast, fresh-baked cookies, all of these warm the heart and the tummy. They are ways to say, “I love you” without actually saying a word. Following is an excerpt from the Etta Bend Book of Devotions:
“The lines are fallen to me in pleasant places; yea, I have a goodly heritage” (Psalm 16:6).
On a cold winter day, what could be more warming than a bowl of homemade soup? When my grandmother, Edna Latty, made soup, she put into it whatever vegetables she had on hand. During the summer, these ingredients were fresh from her garden, but in the winter, she opened jars of home-canned tomatoes and green beans, brought out potatoes and onions, put them all together with sufficient water into a pot, and let them simmer on the back of her wood-burning stove. She cooked them for several hours, and long before lunch time, the delicious aroma of homemade soup drifted through the Latty farmhouse. Come noon, this soup, served with golden cornbread dripping with melted butter, topped off with milk or coffee, made a meal that fortified body and spirit. That was one of those everyday things, taken for granted then but looked back on now as a warm memory to brighten a dark winter day.
Thought: Love makes itself known in the simplest ways: a home-cooked meal, a family well-provided for.
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