I have my alarm set to K-Love, hoping that waking up to "Jesus songs" (that's what we call them at the Bray house) will help jump-start my morning engine. I love those mornings when the first thing I hear is the Good Morning song by Mandisa, or Well Done by Moriah Peters.
Today I woke up to East to West by Casting Crowns. This is a beautiful song, but not what I would call an uplifting, welcome-to-a-new-day kind of song. So I rolled over and tried to go back to sleep.
No good.
Instead, I laid there listening to the sounds of 8a.m. My boys were very quiet. No doubt reading a book. The only thing I could hear was K-Love playing in all three of our bedrooms. So I forced myself to get out of bed.
I zombie-walked to the kitchen and looked at the menu. Today is Flapjack Friday, meaning I planned to make either pancakes, waffles or crepes on Fridays. I don't know why I put crepes on the list. I will never make crepes.
My first thought was, "I should change that to Cereal Friday". But then, I got out the waffle-maker and all the necessary ingredients. I mixed up the batter and started the first waffle...
Up to this point, I had no intention of blogging today. Blogging is rarely something I plan to do. It just hits me. So I have to write it or lose it. If I am close to the computer, I write it. If not, I lose it. Today I'm writing it.
...I got what I call "the pancake bowl" out of the cupboard, and a smile spread across my face. I love this bowl.
This bowl is not only the perfect size for holding pancakes or waffles; it also holds for me cherished childhood memories.
I come from a large family ~ three girls, two boys. We lived in a small three-bedroom, one-bathroom house. I shared a twin bed with my older sister until I was a freshman in high school. Needless to say, we were close - in every sense of the word.
When I look at "the pancake bowl", it takes me back to Saturday mornings in the 80s and early 90s...
...
Most Saturdays our family slept in, skipping breakfast altogether and moving right on to lunch as our first meal. But some Saturdays my parents would be early risers. So we'd wake up to the smell of eggs, sausage, bacon, grits, pancakes and syrup...
Can you smell it?
Mmm...
Those were the best mornings. I'd climb over my sister, who even to this day has the uncanny ability to sleep through anything.
I'd actually scurry out of my room to find Mama and Daddy hunkered down in the kitchen preparing a morning feast fit for royalty.
Mama busied herself making pancake after pancake (it takes a LOT of pancakes to feed seven people), all the while turning bacon and sausage on the griddle.
Daddy asked, "How do you want your eggs, kiddo?" My reply was always, "Cheese omelet, please!" My dad makes the BEST cheese omelets.
I loved those mornings. All seven of us would sit together at the table with our made-to-order eggs on our plates, passing around "the pancake bowl" and syrup. I felt so loved on those Saturday mornings.
The memory of it still puts a smile on my face, and brings a tear to my eye.
...
I guess that's why it was so important to me, after forcing myself out of bed this morning, to prepare these special treats for my boys.
I want them to feel so loved.
Maybe someday they'll fill "the pancake bowl" with love for their own children.
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