Pie

Yesterday afternoon, my mother, who is visiting with my sister in a neighboring town, came over to my house. Since I had gotten a large basket of apples over the weekend, we decided to make an apple pie. For some reason, I could not find the crisco that I knew was in my kitchen. I could have used butter for the crust, but my Mom can't tolerate any milk products. So we made the crust with oil. She peeled the apples, and at 85, she can still remove an apple peel in one complete piece. I put the crust and other ingredients together. We worked in my kitchen side by side, laughing and joking. I had learned to make pie by her side when I was a small child and conversation and stories flowed as we worked together. This moment seemed like one in an eternal continuum.

We had a simple but tasty dinner together, although all three of us thought we should just eat pie. Skip that main course entirely and make pie the whole meal. The pie was still warm and steaming when we cut it into pieces. We ate our pie and drank our coffee with satisfaction and joy. The simple gifts of life and love enjoyed around a table.

When we dropped my Mom off at my sister's house, we were talking about our afternoon. And about pie. I will be away for a few days and I expect that the pie will be a good comfort to Mark while I'm gone. My eight year old new phew heard us talking and said. "You had pie? Don't tell my Dad. It could end very badly". Pie has that potential - to make people so needy, envious or hopeful - things could go bad with all the swirl of emotion. Pie can and has kept many people happily alive for years. Not so nutritious, but with a high pleasure value, thrilling tasty and somewhat dangerous (at least to the hips).

May today be a day filled with pie. Filled with those things that are simple and lovely in their capacity to bring joy. May today be a day where the small things in life bring the greatest pleasure. God is in our small pleasures, our tender hidden moments and the gifts we offer one another in love.