“Mom! I just sat on my yogurt.” With a slight exhale, I stated, “Was it open?” “Yes, mam,” she peeped. Closing my eyes and uttering, “I will clean it up when we get there.” We were loaded down to the max, and only forty-five minutes before we arrived at my sister’s, the dam broke. Tyson exploded, Eva couldn’t hold it, Charlotte ran out of goldfish, and yogurt was now seeping through the cracks of the backseat.
The year was 1990, and we enjoyed summer fun in the Black Hills in South Dakota. They have a summer Christian concert series called Hills Alive. Brittney and I were about seven and eight years old, and we had our hair up in ponytails and running around in shorts and tank tops.
We enjoyed the sunshine and the park while our parents listened to the concert that went on all day. It was such an exciting week, and we got to stay in a hotel! We rarely spent the night in a hotel, especially with a pool! In the Dakotas, well, in the North in general, most places had indoor pools due to the long winters. This particular hotel had a huge pool and hot tub.
Sitting underneath a picnic table while a thunderstorm threatened to postpone all the day’s concerts, Mom and Dad were soaking wet as they packed up all the afternoon fun, grabbed us kids, and made a mad dash for the car. We were all dripping wet, but Brittney and I did not care. We knew we would get to play in the pool and warm up in the hot tub when we got back to the hotel. Mom and Dad had no idea how they handled the rain, which impacted our lives forever.
“But I made the cookies!” She exclaimed. I was there when my kids came home from school. I did everything, yet it didn’t do any good!” Holding a copy of my book, Home Sweet Home, her bitterness showed like a garden weed that refused to die. She was intent on souring me to the home and wanted to be sure I understood the sacrifices I was making would never pay off. My heart was heavy as she walked away. Was she right? Was it all going to be for nothing?
It was as if the Lord walked up beside me and put his hand on my shoulder. I heard Him sweetly whisper to my heart, “She missed it. It was never in the cookies.”
I was selling books on the open square. The weather was stormy, and only a few people were out shopping. Sitting under the tent with my family, I enjoyed the morning rain. Tyson was snug in his stroller, and tarps were all around the tent to block the wind.
It wasn’t long until the quiet rain turned into a torrential downpour. Trying to keep the kids dry and all my books from getting soaked, we decided it was time to pack up and go home. We loaded the kids first, but Chuck and I were drenched, trying to tear down and load. I smiled, watching Chuck help others pack tents and haul bags into vehicles. He told one seller, “Oh, it’s no problem; it’s just a little water.” In our truck, I said, “I’m glad you all decided to stay with me this morning.” The girls said, “It’s better together!”
In the 1800s, an inn owner went to bake some chocolate cookies for her guests. To her horror, she realized she had run out of baker’s chocolate. Improvising, she chopped up a bar of chocolate and added it to the mix. Chocolate Chip Cookies were born.
It’s not the cookies that will make your family succeed. It will be how you handle the rain. It is the atmosphere you create, the fellowship inside the home. Watching the Lord turn lemons into lemonade and enjoying His goodness will make the difference.
Walking into a store, I watched an old couple cross the parking lot. They looked like they had just stepped out of the 1950s in mannerisms and wear. He held her arm as they slowly made their way across the lot. He stopped briefly to let me pass as if a gentleman’s courtesy had been remembered. Inside, I grabbed a cart and handed it to him. He said, “No, Mam. That’s for you. I will get ours.” Understanding streamed across my face as to why they were still going strong. I desperately wanted to ask more questions but let the sweet encounter be enough.
I have no idea what kind of life they lived or if she made the cookies, but I know this: the years of life they spent together make me think they just might know the secret ingredient.
Sitting on my sister’s front porch with my father, we laughed until we cried as I still carried the paper towels from the yogurt mess I had cleaned. It was a sticky, gooey mess I could have done without, but the laughter, I could not.
The tone in which you make deposits will leave an imprint on your family as the years pass. Love will be the main ingredient you need. Make the cookies, and laugh when it rains.
I have no greater joy than to hear that my children are walking in truth. 3 John 1:4
