Another week, another chance to write on a one-word prompt for only
five minutes. We set timers, type quickly, and let it flow without
criticism. Then, we link-up our posts so we can read others' posts and
they read ours and we have a community that grows from one word each
week.
Five Minute Friday.
Go!
Pop! Sizzle! Crackle! Mmmm. The warmth of the oven as I broil bacon gently wafts up around my feet and legs and embraces me like an old friend. The aroma of the savory meat gradually heating up to delicious crisp protein causes my mouth to water.
From the time I can remember, our Saturday morning routine began with my Dad whistling or singing in the kitchen. I can still smell the lemon-scented dish soap as he cheerfully cleaned dishes, wiped down the counters and simultaneously cooked a full "big" breakfast for the family.
After our breakfast, we all had chores to complete. A family of seven can quickly clean a week's worth of mess, when working together.
Often he would play music. Some vintage Maranatha Praise Strings or Keith Green "Songs for a Shepherd". Once in a while, Harry Chapin crooned "30,000 Pounds of Bananas" and "The Cats in the Cradle".
I always loved our time on the weekends with my Dad. I realize now, as a school teacher, how much my mom needed his help. My own husband carries on the same tradition of getting up and cooking us a hot breakfast on Saturday mornings. We have eggs, potatoes from our garden, and bacon. (other weekends, we'll have sausage instead).
I'm a little more conscientious about the bacon I purchase. It's usually hardwood smoked, uncured, without nitrates, and costs more, I'm sure, than what I grew up eating, but deep down, it's the love that gets cooked into the bacon that makes it so special.
I hope and pray that my girls have as rich a relationship with their Daddy as I had.
During the week, he and my mom were both "bringing home the bacon", but on the weekend, they were still a team. His servant's heart was something that showed his love and respect for my mom. I am blessed to have a husband with that same heart.
And, as the president of the "Super Swine" 4-H club, bacon was a big part of my husband's life.
Tonight, I am blessed by bacon.
~Tammy
Always striving to be transparent and sincere as I learn what the Love of God truly means. "But in your hearts revere Christ as Lord. Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect" (1 Peter 3:15)
Love this! Sunday morning breakfasts with bacon. As a farmer, Dad wasn't always able to be home on Sun mornings so when he was, we treasured all the times he made bacon for us. I'm parked in the #2 spot tonight.
ReplyDeleteTara,
Deleteloved yours as well! It's been fun to see how many posts are about family meals through this prompt. I think love could be spelled b-a-c-o-n, or at least we could spell family that way. ;)
Love,
Tammy
What a lovely, heartwarming essay, Tammy. Truly, I can feel the love, and smell the bacon! Thank you for writing this; thememory and the hope are so bright and clear, brought to life by your words.
ReplyDelete#1 at FMF this week.
http://blessed-are-the-pure-of-heart.blogspot.com/2015/10/your-dying-spouse-76-heart-like-bacon.html
Andrew,
ReplyDeleteif you could stomach it, I'd cook you some bacon on Saturday. You and Barbara could sit back and let somebody else bless you with breakfast. :) Then, I'd drizzle the grease on the dog food as an extra treat for the pups. (so we'd have to cook extra bacon in order to have enough grease to go around. Perhaps we'd let them eat some of that bacon too.)
I'm sorry for the pain in your post-the personal wounds are the hardest to salve. Glad you're not completely wrapped in it. Mmm. Bacon. Wrapped. Around. Steak.
(I know you're smiling now. Good boy.)
Such a sweet post, Tammy. Now that you speak of it I do remember my dad cooking bacon for us when we were littles, too. Thanks for bringing it to my mind.
ReplyDeleteLynette
#71 this week