Making a Memory

"The girls really liked you helping them make strawberry shortcake yesterday," our son said. Kate, his eight-year-old, had told me before how much she liked my strawberry shortcake, so her mom suggested I teach them to make it. They brought over the ingredients, so Monday after school instead of the kids watching television, we had our own cooking show in the kitchen!

"Who wants to cut up the strawberries and who wants to mix the batter?" I asked, after we washed the berries in a colander and she and six-year-old Beth had removed the caps. Kate felt confident enough with a knife to slice the berries on the cutting board, but Beth wanted to mix the batter.

I just use baking mix, nothing special, to which Beth enjoyed adding the carefully measured tablespoons of sugar, melted butter, and a third cup milk. It was rather stiff and difficult for her to stir, so we added more milk until it was just right for plopping big scoops of it onto a cookie sheet.

"Is this enough?" Kate asked after she had quartered half a carton of the beautiful, fresh berries. It looked like plenty for the three individual cakes we made, so we sweetened them to get juicy while the shortcakes baked.

Then the fun began! The golden brown cakes came out so large that we cut them in two, making six portions. Berries, dripping luscious juice, had to be sprinkled on, and large dollops of whipped cream dispensed generously to decorate the tops. Mmm! They were good! There's nothing like homemade. We had enough for Dad, Grandpa, and Mimi, too!

"They'll always remember that," my husband volunteered as we chatted with their dad yesterday. "Like the story of the man who took his son on a fishing trip and thought of it as a waste of time away from work." Then he told how many years later, the father found an old school paper belonging to the son, describing the day his dad took him fishing as the best day of his life.

We never know what will stick in kids' memories. My own children have brought up things I did that affected them or that they learned from me that I don't even remember. I do remember though, one hot summer day when they persuaded me to take them to a lake for an afternoon of swimming. Normally, I wouldn't set out on such a venture without their dad, but for some reason I did, even though I'm sure I would have rather stayed home and taken a nap or something. My daughter brings that memory up from time to time and still remembers it as a special day.

I have heard my oldest son, a minister, tell in a sermon of the time I led him to the Lord in a salvation experience. To be honest, I can't recall if that was at church or at home. I have a vague recollection of accompanying him to the altar one night when he was 13. Although that was over 40 years ago, it still remains in his mind as the most important decision of his life. Thankfully, I was there to share it, even if I'm a little fuzzy on the details. The Bible says even if a mother forgets her child, He will not forget us. He has us inscribed on the palms of His hand. Psalm 49:15,16.