It’s the Little Things that Really Matter
OR
A Turnip in the Vegetable Soup
I like to think about the little things that can make a big difference to a person, event or thing. I can remember as a classroom teacher getting positive cards and thank you notes from parents and students. Through the years, if I was having a bad day, or week, or month, or year, I’d pull out some of those cards and notes and read them just to reassure myself that someone,somewhere, sometime liked and appreciated me! I’ve gotten some that weren’t so nice over the years too, probably deservedly so, but those I tossed. No sense dwelling on the negative. One doesn’t forget what they say anyway. It takes a lot of positives to overshadow one bad word or event. Often a little word, a smile, a pat on the back or even a “like” on Facebook can make the difference in one’s attitude and outlook. Many motivational books and programs are written about this and it is a reality. That’s probably why the Bible has so much to say about our words and thoughts.
It is the little things that really matter.
On the subject of foods and cooking, it’s no secret that ingredients make all the difference in the outcome and what one cook puts in his or her special dish is the singular thing that can make it stand out from all the rest. I am always amazed at what a little salt will do to anything--even sweets! Salt is useful to clean with, it heals and cures meat and sore places on people. No wonder Jesus told us that we were to be the salt of the earth! This old evil world needs the salt of good people to balance out all the negativity that is rampant today.
Spices and seasonings can make all the difference in a dish being special or bland. Think about that pan of Thanksgiving dressing--just a little sage or too much sage and the taste is entirely different.
It’s the little things that really matter.
As I write this, I have a pot of vegetable soup simmering away on the stove. This morning I dug out a soupbone that was stuck back in the freezer and put it in the pressure cooker with some onion, salt, and pepper. I lit candles everywhere because that soupbone and onion cooking together sure stink up the whole house. But it is so good as a stock for my vegetable soup made like Mama made hers. I add tomatoes and okra canned over the summer, carrots, English peas (out of a can), corn frozen from the garden, macaroni, and ONE SLICED TURNIP.
I wrapped myself up in my rain gear, work boots, and gloves and braved the deluge of this morning to go out to the garden and find that one turnip to put in my vegetable soup.
It’s the little things that really matter.
My mother was a wonderful cook but her specialty was just good ole Southern food. I always thought she was a born cook, but after her death, I discovered her journals and learned that she did not know how to cook when she married. I found one of her cookbooks that she must have gotten when she married--it is copyrighted 1924. There were several recipes and dishes in there that were exactly how Mama made them. That was very encouraging to me because I couldn’t boil water when I married and felt so inadequate compared to Mama when it came to cooking. Even though she has been gone for 28 years, I still find myself wanting to call her and ask her how to make something!
Growing up, I remember coming home from school and walking in the back door into the kitchen to the aroma of a big pot of vegetable soup on the stove. I literally could eat a gallon of it over the course of a day. It was so good! Over the years, when I married and was teaching, Mama would call and tell me to come by and get vegetable soup! She would call the grandsons and everyone would go home with a quart jar of her vegetable soup. Once I teased her that she must have been making it in her big canner since she gave so much away. It was so good.
Mama became ill with cancer in 1987. Over the next few years, she valiantly and gracefully fought her illness and chemo ( so different in those days than it is now) and finally succumbed to her illness on April 30, 1990. Over the next few weeks, my siblings and I were faced with the inevitable yet sad, task of emptying her house and disposing of a lifetime of possessions. My oldest brother, David, and his family lived in Gainesville, FL. The second born of the family, Daniel, was living in London at the time but had come to stay for an extended visit during Mama’s last days and for a few months after. My sister, MG, who lived in Inman, and I would work during the week cleaning out and categorizing. The sons would do their part when they came home for the weekends.
It was a hard thing to do, and as we got closer and closer to clearing out Mama’s house, my sadness and grief over the whole experience seemed to intensify. I was doing well during the day and I held it together in front of my 13 year old and 7 year old. But at night, in the bed with my husband sleeping soundly beside me, I silently wept and grieved for Mama. I prayed to God that He would somehow assuage the grief and help me to embrace the fact that she was no longer with us because she was free of pain and in a better place, reunited with her “Bill”.
The days became routine with the same activities and the nights continued to be filled with grief and loss.
We came to a point where we had finally cleaned out all the rooms and finished the dispersing of family things. My sister and I had saved Mama’s freezer until last. Why we did that I do not know. Probably one of the instances when God winks. Finally the day came when we made our way to the back porch and her freezer.
Now the reader must understand that Mama was a product of the Great Depression. She saved everything including aluminum foil, string, rubber bands, twist ties--you’ve seen the FaceBook videos. That was my Mama. So when we opened up the freezer, we saw bread bags stuffed with leftover cornbread, bread heels, and biscuits ready to be used for the next pan of dressing. (That’s another post.) We saw little freezer containers of leftovers, veggies, and the like. A piece of that and a portion of this. Most had to be discarded. Some of the Cool Whip containers had things in them that will never be identified!
But on one shelf, we saw several pretty cookie tins. Each one had a family member’s name on it. The cookie tins were filled with Mama’s chocolate pecan fudge. Mama was known in the family for her fudge. My husband always got fudge for his birthday and Christmas. It wasn’t an event until you got Mama’s fudge. She had made the fudge for us, labeled it, and stored it in the freezer during a time when she was able. There was no note, but we knew that she had done that purposely for us! I can’t describe the feeling I got knowing that Mama had done that, but I did know that she somehow had wanted us to know that it was okay. Even during her pain and end of life, she was thinking about us and wanted us to have something special from her.
It’s the little things that really matter.
On the next shelf up were two Tupperware bowls that were labeled “Cathy” and “Martha Gail”. It was frozen but we knew immediately what it was. It was vegetable soup! I remember my sister and I saying that we didn’t want to eat it because we knew it was the last vegetable soup of Mama’s that we would ever get. Finally after a time, memory doesn’t serve me how long, but we broke down and ate the vegetable soup. I can’t describe how comforting it was and how much it made me feel closer to Mama. It was like she was there! I came to realize that even though she was gone, the memories and things she taught me would never leave me.
It’s the little things that really matter.
Over the course of the next few weeks, I still grieved but the open wound was slowly closing and I was beginning to work my way through the grief. One day, my youngest son and I went to White Oak Nursing Home in Spartanburg to visit our Auntie Gail, Mama's sister (she gets her own post someday) who had fallen and broken her hip shortly before Mama’s death. Going to see her was always emotional and as we left the building, I was weeping. My youngest son took my hand, looked up at me and said, “Mommy, I want you to feel better. It hurts my heart to see you crying.” I decided then and there that I had to move on for the sake of my children and husband. That night as I lay in the bed, the tears came again and I prayed to God. “Dear God, please take this grief away from me. I don’t want to feel this way anymore. Just let me have good memories and be able to rejoice that Mama is in Heaven with you!” Immediately, I felt a sense of peace that seemed to ease all the pain and grief away. As a calmness enveloped me, I was left with peace and comfort. It was real. It was palpable. Just as God is real. He hears our prayers and knows our pain and grief. If we just turn things over to Him, He can make it right.
My sister was the first to decide that she wanted to “recreate” Mama’s vegetable soup and make a big pot to share. She made the soup and like Mama would have, called me and told me to come and get some! I got my jar of soup and took it home, eagerly anticipating that special feeling that came from eating Mama’s soup. MG’s soup was delicious. It was filling. It was nutritious. But it wasn’t like Mama’s. Something was missing.
Then it was my turn. I decided I WOULD make vegetable soup like Mama’s. I did the soupbone like she did with the little pieces of beef in the soup. I prepared the vegetables. I added shredded cabbage, onions, peas, carrots, canned tomatoes, okra, and potatoes. When my pot of soup was ready, I sampled it. It was delicious. It was filling. It was nutritious. But it wasn’t like Mama’s. Something was missing. But what? I had added every vegetable I knew to add to her soup!
Over the months, my sister and I became resigned to the fact that Mama’s recipe for soup had been lost and we would never know what we were doing wrong. Often we see it written and hear it said that we wish we had gotten Mama or grandma or whomever to write down those special recipes! But we never do it! Make it a family project now to get those favorite dishes’ recipes written down!
At some later point in time, my sister and I were visiting with Mama’s younger sister, Elizabeth--Aunt Ibby to us. She and Mama were close in age and shared many life experiences together over the years as they raised their families in Spartanburg, SC. We were talking and reminiscing and for some reason, the subject of Mama’s vegetable soup came up. We told her we had tried and tried and we just couldn’t get the taste right. I asked Aunt Ibby, ”Do you know how Mama made her vegetable soup?” She replied that she might. She said to tell her how we had been making it. My sister and I went over the ingredients and how we had been preparing it. She laughed and said, “Well, you forgot the turnip!”
That was it. The one thinly sliced turnip. Just one. Too many and the flavor is overpowering--I know because I tried it. If one turnip is good, then several ought to be delicious, right? Wrong. JUST ONE TURNIP is all it takes.
It’s the little things that really matter.
We couldn’t wait to get home and make a pot of vegetable soup to see if that turnip was the missing ingredient in Mama’s vegetable soup. Of course it was! Aunt Ibby was right.
Since that time, we have been happily and joyfully making Mama’s vegetable soup and lovingly remembering her with every bite we take!
It’s the little things that really matter.
