Wednesday, January 30, 2013
I stink at cinnamon rolls...
"I stink at cinnamon rolls!" I declared as my husband nearly choked on his third, no possibly sixth cinnamon roll....
This was a good batch, from my heart!
I have mastered the cream cheese frosting, but cinnamon roll perfection has eluded me! I somehow manage to make them flat as pancakes and they are always... Crunchy? I have more than once thrown my hands in the air! "I give up!" Yet I am always eager to try again. Giving it another shot, learning from previous attempts...
I have been thinking about cinnamon rolls a lot lately, well at least since Saturday, when my family attended a funeral for the mother of my husbands aunt.
Trying to get four girls out the door and in the car to be anywhere on time is indeed a chore! One that left little time for breakfast. As we listened to tearful memories, the subject of cinnamon rolls kept coming up. Late into her nineties this loving lady could apparently make a mean batch of cinnamon rolls! In the seats next to me I could hear little tummies growling. Images of hot buttery rolls nagging our minds!
As I pushed aside my own hunger and resigned to letting the baby gnaw on the A&D, I started to wish that I had known the woman who we had gathered to celebrate. I listened to story after story about an amazing woman with a wonderful heart! I began to wonder what I would be remembered for? I pondered on my own legacy. The choices that we make today have an impact on our future. Would my children be able to look past the some times tense and anguishing parts of life to remember the laughter? Will they forget when out of frustration I raised my voice and instead giggle whilst throwing themselves into a glistening pile of fresh snow, arms and legs in harmony creating the perfect snow angel....like mom would
Too often we forget
Each day is the day that could be our last. God granted, I hope to live a long and full life. Relishing in weddings and grandchildren! Triumphing alongside the accomplishments that are ahead! A source of comfort when there is heartbreak....And when I am ninety and the two rocking chairs on the front porch have worn thin, I want to be remembered for enriching the lives of my husband and children. If the tears fall when they remember the strength we shared as a family facing our challenges, I want them then to smile when they recall upon the absolutely grand moments! I hope they remember how everyday I put them first. I want them to be proud. I want them to remember that even though I more often than not made flat, chewy cinnamon rolls I never stopped trying!