Comfort, Community, and Cornbread

Mom's Signature Dish.  Noted in Nashville.Comfort, Community, and Cornbread

Last Thursday, October 11th marked the six year anniversary of my mom’s passing after her fight with ovarian cancer.  I try to consider that day her new birthday for her new life.

I try.

Every year on that day I like to do something to honor my mom.  Of course, I hope that I honor her everyday.  But on this day, I try to honor her.

I try.

Some years are harder than others.  As I visited blogs that day, liking and commenting, I searched for something, some clue for how to mark the day.  I suppose I could have written a post, but even now, I have trouble writing about her.  My writing becomes . . . well . . . bad.

For years, I’ve tried to write something special – a story, a song, or (heaven help the reader) a poem.  The subject is too important for words – too important for my words.

I’ve tried.

This year, a stranger said it for me.  She left something special in my “notifications” box.  Here’s what waited for me there:

Oct 11, 3:33 pm

Hi, thanks for visiting my Christian Encouragement Site.

I decided to list some favorite “COMFORT RECIPES” and I would like to include your cornbread recipe/link. Soup is my comfort food so there will be several of those too. I am trying to type them out but they keep getting scrambled. When I have some extra time, I am sure I will get them whipped into shape.
Come visit me again and please share my blog if you think others will find it encouraging and helpful.

I consider my mom’s cornbread her signature dish.  She made it, with those tiny hands of hers, at least three days a week.

I tried.  Cheryl did.

When you get a chance, please visit Cheryl’s blog Weeping into Dancing.  Cheryl is a single mother who had surgery a year ago for a brain tumor found in her frontal lobe.  Her site is full of lovely and encouraging quotes, stories, and comfort foods . . . like cornbread.
Cheryl’s message was the perfect gift for me and my mom.  I hope to be as big a blessing as she was to me that day.
I’ll try.
– Anita, Noted in Nashville

Me, me, me. Blah, blah, blah. Tell me a little about you.

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