Speaking of Baking

I was just blog lurking. So many bloggers have pictures of their homemade Christmas baking and have written out the recipes to try. They look delicious. If you have been reading my blog, you will know that this Christmas, I will be offering my home made baking [made with the help of a large food company] to anyone who drops by.

I don't have a recipe to share with you but I do have some happy memories associated with baking.

When I was growing up, we lived across the street from a very lovely gramma-type neighbour. We called her "Aunt Lucy". She didn't have children of her own, but was sort of adopted by our family. We all enjoyed the friendly look-out-for-each-other type of neighbourliness we shared back and forth. A few years after we moved in, "Aunt Lucy" made our family [of eight] a huge platter of home baked goods for Christmas. She kept up this up for several years running. We all looked forward to the arrival of that platter. The ones we fought over [not really fighting but you know...they went to the most quick-fingered of us ] were the crescent cookies dipped in chocolate. I am sure it surprised her how quickly her platter was returned to her.

After I was married, I wrote to Aunt Lucy and asked her for her recipes. I haven't used the actual recipes much, but I treasure the sentimental addition they are to my collection. Every once in a while, I take them out and enjoy reading the hand-scribed recipes in her spidery handwriting.

Another baking memory I have [again, not my own baking] was my friend Janna. She took me into her home and incorporated me into her life while I attended college. I looked forward to coming to her homey oasis on the weekends. She was the same age as my oldest sister and our relationship was cemented early and fast - she invested herself in my life as a friend and mentor, and I think I in turn, gave her the delight of having a little sister -person in her life, with my mix of young-adult thinking and naiviety.

At the beginning of November, Janna amused herself by baking up a storm after a full day of work. She made at least 15 different kinds of baked goods over the course of the month. Sugar cookies, chocolate covered goodies, homemade sugar strawberries are some of the ones I remember. She would play Christmas music [I still love the Roger Whittaker one the best] as she baked. Often, she was up until the wee hours waiting for the batch of cookies to finish baking. I would stay up with her, caught up in the excitment of preparation. I would work on other projects (school work???????????) while she baked. She had a toaster oven and many times around midnight we'd get a craving for biscuits, and so one of us would whip up a batch, and throw them in to the toaster oven and then enjoy them warm and toasty, with her homemade jam.

On the first Sunday of Advent, Janna went around delivering the platters to friends and families with whom she had built bridges. She got up extra early in the morning, and spent several hours before she went to church, leaving the cookies on their front steps.

Janna only lived to see her 42nd year. [The age I am now]. After she died, I decided that I would take up the cause, and on the first Advent Sunday after she died, I delivered my own homemade cookies to many of those same people, in celebration of the memory of her service. She taught me so much about sacrificial giving and the joy of anticipation of the Advent of the Saviour.

I didn't continue that tradition after that one year, because, as in much of life, there are seasons for such things. But every year, on the first Sunday of Advent, I think about her and the lessons I learned as a young adult by watching her using her oven to show Christ's love.