“ The creation of Beauty, Goodness, and Truth Remains the Unity we seek.
Soon to discover this is a messy thing to do.”
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robert r. lackney, chaplain
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Reflection: My Grandfather’s Prayer
I remember after 65 years the smells of my grandmother’s kitchen.
Those rich creamy warm smells:
Charred hickory woods coming out of the
Ornamental iron oven, smoke stained with spicy-hot hickory wood
I remember after 65 years the smells of my grandmother’s kitchen.
Those rich creamy warm smells:
Charred hickory woods coming out of the
Ornamental iron oven, smoke stained with spicy-hot hickory wood
Mixed and Blended with the turkey, ham, mash potatoes and gravy.
Cherry pie, apple pie and rhubarb pie with a lattice crust and whipped cream.
Pink, green, blue hand painted porcelain dishes from the old country.
Cherry pie, apple pie and rhubarb pie with a lattice crust and whipped cream.
Pink, green, blue hand painted porcelain dishes from the old country.
Little red roses dancing on the holiday tablecloth
Carried from the old country of Mayo Ireland, County Tirawley.
Steamy vegetables, and that heavenly embrace of warm-hot
Scent of bread that permeated everything the very frame of the house.
There would be 18 of us
Uncles and aunts sitting at the home made wood country table.
My grandfather, Michael,
Long white hair, mustached
Sitting in the big chair at the table’s end
Bright eyes and all smiles.
The offering prayer and petitions had just been said then:
A low groan from the head of the table filled with food.
My grandfather’s deep raspy voice would sing:
Carried from the old country of Mayo Ireland, County Tirawley.
Steamy vegetables, and that heavenly embrace of warm-hot
Scent of bread that permeated everything the very frame of the house.
There would be 18 of us
Uncles and aunts sitting at the home made wood country table.
My grandfather, Michael,
Long white hair, mustached
Sitting in the big chair at the table’s end
Bright eyes and all smiles.
The offering prayer and petitions had just been said then:
A low groan from the head of the table filled with food.
My grandfather’s deep raspy voice would sing:
“ Rub a dud dub- Thank you Lord for this ‘Grubb’.”
From my right my father Andrew as if on queue says:
“The one who eats the fastest gets the most-est.”
Family fun:
Who could not feel joy,
especially the presence of family love at this meal?
Who would know that within three days
My Grandfather Michael would be dead.
My Grandfather Michael would be dead.
This was our last meal at the farm with our complete family present.
We all have a similar story to tell.
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deacon robert lackney, chaplain
deacon robert lackney, chaplain
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