Irma’s Hands

So today I made my annual trip to the doctor and he tells me I need to think about coming off my Hormone Replacement Therapy. Ok, I thought about it and the answer is: Marsha minus hormones equals DANGER!!! Getting older makes me think I need to move one street over to Crappy Lane; yes, there is a street here in the Chickamauga Fly and Bait Casting Club called Crappy Lane! The thoughts of no hormones should reek havoc in the western world and I’m giving everyone within the sound of my voice fair warning: WARNING, WARNING, DANGER WILL ROBINSON! I guess I’ll have to start a new blog called, “So I’ve ‘Changed’, Now What?” I’ve never really understood why menopause is called, “THE CHANGE”. It’s like the title of some freaky, horror movie!  Oh well, stay tuned, there just might be a sequel.

And now a word from our sponsor, Irma James! The past several days have been tedious with research and reading accompanied by an occasional doubt served up with a side of sheer fear. I have re-grouped so many times I could run a political campaign! It’s the same feeling as standing on the 20-foot diving platform at Wakulla Springs; I’m trying to talk myself out of it inevitably knowing full well, the only thing I can do is jump, eyes-wide open and enjoy the fall, cause that bone-chilling water is about to hit you real hard, real soon! 

Yesterday morning, during one of my fearful moments, I reached for a box of Irma’s recipes. First of all, you must understand my grandmother never threw away a single piece of paper; she would retool and reuse anything and everything! I have recipes written on the back of a receipt from the Western Auto store, on a church bulletin and a mail outs from Oral Roberts. And usually these recipes are dated along with the date she received the piece of mail, bulletin and receipt. She was as meticulous in her record keeping as she was in preparing food. I can see her now sitting at the kitchen table with a bowl and a sharp paring knife, cutting and slicing fruits and vegetables to exacting thickness and size. To my knowledge she never used a cutting board or a chef’s knife to chop food, she always did it by hand with extremely precise results. The gift of love she exhibited with those sweet hands, whether cooking, sewing or writing recipes or scripture verses is eternal. Her love lives on, not only in her handwritten recipe box, in her handmade quilts and afghans but it lives on in Heaven. Don’t you think she is still using those precious hands to make fresh pear preserves for the saints or is she taking handwritten notes of everything so glorious and Holy all around her?