Here Is What’s Funny:

So many sit in the mudroom with the galoshes, raincoats, and beanies…and they imagine they are in my inner chambers because I bring them cookies and hot chockie and tea, and if they are of the sort, a wee dram or 3 along with some salted almonds roasted with herbs…

…they are blind to the door that is just sitting, waiting…the motto over the top is the same as the one over Moria…but the anteroom is so dang snug (never mind the mess of shoes and the stink of stale rain steaming in the warmth as all things dry and the sodden woolen scarves and mittens air out)…

the kitchen is behind the door, Constance, and it is a very roomy kitchen but never too large…snug and just so, always with just enough room for every person to feel intimate and personally received into a special time and place.  It is a wonderfully strange space, because it expands and contracts of its own volition according to the way it perceives the need.

The kitchen takes me along for the ride.

I love my kitchen, the one inside me, with the ovens…yes, there are multiple ovens, some for cooking bread, and some for meat…and some for delectable tasty wonderful treats.  Cookies and cakes and pies and more.  I love my range, and what a range it is…

…and I love the eating bar, with its ever growing/shrinking spaces snug and comfy and close for the ones who simply have the courage, will, and interest in simply saying the word that opens the door and coming on in.

I serve good food in my kitchen.
I serve nutritious food, that is not stodgy and boring.
I never serve poison in my kitchen.

Never.

There is music in the kitchen, playing softly in the background at times, and other times crashing loudly like thundrous waves on the shores of our hearts…the style changes on its own, but always has some Van Morrison, some Eliza Gilkyson, some Bruce Cockburn, some Caitlin Maude, some Archie Fischer, and tons of instrumental folk music from around the world…usually Celtic in nature.

There are rock and roll days in the kitchen, when The Blasters blast, The Standells sing of Dirty Water and Boston, CCR wants to direct attention out the backdoor, and Rob Jungklas tells us all about that Memphis Thing.

There are nights when The Pretenders, The Drifters, The Standells, and Frankie Valli croon and soar…

there are nights…yes.

And always ALWAYS, Mama is there, lingering in all things, blessing all things.

My Kitchen:  it is known as Grace…

I do not keep people out…but I have set things up where they keep themselves out if they are not amenable to the humility of receiving grace.

3 thoughts on “Here Is What’s Funny:

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