The Candy Thermometer

I've mentioned that my Grandma taught me to make peanut brittle, and it is to her that attribute my enjoyment of cooking for people. During the Christmas holiday of 2008, Grandma taught me how to make divinity. She was known well for all of her candies and desserts, but she exhibited a certain pride with her divinity that she had with no other candy that came from her kitchen.

During the lesson, I discovered that her candy thermometer was broken. When I told her about it, she said to throw it away. And I asked if I could have it. She thought that was so bizarre. "Why on earth would you want a broken candy thermometer?! It's no good!"

I didn't share it with her, because she would've been embarrassed, or argumentative about it. But here's why I wanted it. I look at that thermometer today, and I imagine how many batches of Christmas candy she made using that thing. It has obviously been through a lot. I think about how that thermometer was a bit of a friend and guide during all that candy making, somewhat of a compass. And then I think of her life--of what was her compass in life. When things were good. When things were bad. When things were worse than bad. Her compass was the Lord. I don't know of a time when my grandmother turned away from Him, nor have I heard any stories of such.

So, I look at that candy thermometer, and think not only of Grandma, but also of the path she'd want me to travel in this life. The path I want to be on in this life. I guess her life is a bit of a compass for mine.

Grandma's Porch

I love the porch on my grandmother's house. It is nothing elegant. It wraps around about one-fourth of the house, and it is stone and concrete. Quite plain, actually. But I love that porch. I love the memories made playing on it. I love the old metal furniture that I used to sit in with my great grandfather. I love the sound of the wind chimes displayed there. And I love the smell, so reminiscent of all the times I spent on that porch.

One of the last times Grandma and I were on that porch together was during her decline. It was a nice warm day, and I knew the fresh air would do her good. So I lugged some chairs out there, and we just sat together. Listening to the wind chimes. Watching people and cars go by. Visiting. Just being.

I love that porch.