Breakfast With My In-Laws

I told Allen that it felt like a cultural experience. A and N, on either side of me, held my hands tightly as we took part in silent grace. When I was finished praying, I kept my head bowed respectfully but opened my eyes. All of their heads were still bent in prayer. It wasn't until there was a clearing of the throat at the head of the table that everyone's heads bobbed up and the passing of the food began.The homemade bread toasted and coated with butter and honey was delightful. Aunt Erma sat next to me and happily bounced Gracia in her lap as she ate.

Everyone spoke English which made me feel a little less lost. Even though I've been a part of this family for almost five years, I am quite slow to understand Pennsylvania Dutch. I looked across at Linda and oohed over her little boy. "He's seventeen months", she said, in answer to my question.

Brown mush was being passed around the table. This was followed by scrambled eggs and another brown liquid that looked like it contained fat and broth. I helped N to small portions of each. Then there was ketchup. N loves ketchup and feels the need to help herself, so I looked on as she squeezed some into her brown puddles in her bowl. Then it was my turn to help myself to the same thing with portions slightly larger than what I had served N. As I passed the dishes on to Allen, I asked quietly what the food was.

"Puddins" he said, pointing to the fatty liquid, "and cornmeal" gesturing to the brown mush. His mom smiled from the other end of he table. "I made this for Mommy and Doddy, this was a common meal at home." I nodded at the elderly couple visiting their family all the way from PA. "I grew up with yellow stoneground cornmeal" I said, a little embarrassed. I bravely started eating while my mother-in-law said that they all make theirs with roasted cornmeal. My first bites told me that it was harmless if not a bit bland. I looked for the milk and brown sugar to add to my cornmeal and finding none, I squeezed a bit of honey into my cornmeal. The combination of black peppered cornmeal with honey was not my favorite flavor.

"Where did you even find honey?" Allen asked me later. "We always ate our cornmeal with puddins and ketchup." Well, now I know for next time!

The conversation continued around me. Our toddlers did exceptionally well quietly listening, probably because there were so many visitors to watch. Jasper balanced on a bar stool next to Allen, sitting much more still than usual. Gracia started fussing and so Marlene took her from Aunt Erma. "She might be a bit wet" Erma warned as she handed her off. Marlene, mother of ten, only laughed and said she guessed she was used to it. I quickly downed my eggs, mush, and "puddins" and hurried to help my wet baby. 

By the time we came back, everyone was finishing their meals and Allen's dad said "Let's return thanks". I bowed my head again with the rest and thanked the Lord for these dear people. 

Uncle Noah  and Aunt Erma, from Kentucky, gathered their things and said good bye. They looked forward to a morning of visiting with old friends in the community. Aunt Linda laughed and said after their departure "Let them have their fun, I'm happy to stay right here". 

What a beautifully diverse world this is, yellow stoneground cornmeal and brown roasted, loud English conversation and muffled Dutch phrases, mothers of ten and mothers of four, jolly outgoing aunts and quiet comfortable aunts, audible prayers and silent reflections... And God, Creator of it all Who loves each one of us and our differences.