My mom used to make this amazing dessert called “Sour Cream Coffee Cake”. It was highly favored in our household. It started out as a special coffee cake she prepared for mornings of celebration. My dad loved it! All three of us kids loved it. And eventually it was not limited to “breakfast and coffee”. It was the “go to” cake for all occasions…church dinners, birthday requests and always when company was coming. I know I used the recipe many times after growing up but it has been years since I even thought about it. You know how a recipe can be so loved, but then over time other great tastes come into the mix and you just forget about it? That’s what happened to me and the Sour Cream Coffee Cake. I just forgot all about it.
Until now. Until I found myself sitting at the table of my neighbor. I never take these tables for granted; they are holy places where we are invited into God’s grace. Every table; every meal shared…holy space. So when the cake was served after a fabulous feast, I recognized the taste as something wonderful and familiar. Our conversation was so full that I didn’t take time to ask and I also didn’t see the care package prepared for me until I unpacked the sack later in my kitchen. Inside the bag – yes, a big hunk of that lovely cake! I’m not a big sweet eater so I wasn’t sure what would happen with it. I even worried that it was so good I might be tempted to eat the whole thing. And then my sister came by for a visit. The cake was served, and almost as if a light turned on, or a door opened, she said, “It’s so good! It’s Mom’s sour cream coffee cake!” Aha! That is why it is so wonderful and familiar! A flood of memories poured into my soul. Memories that bless me. Memories that remind me of the table my mom prepared for us each day. Tables of love, tables of grace.
I love the way God opens our eyes and reminds us of things we never need to forget. You know the way it happens….a song that takes you into a moment, a scent that beckons you, the feel of a fabric or the touch of rain drops hitting your face. My blindness shows up in such funny ways. I’m grateful to know that God still heals me of those blind spots. I’m intrigued by the ways we are connected across cultures, families and life experiences. And yes, even recipes and tables. What recipe or meal has ever opened your eyes to such grace?