Forever bless'd

I found out on Friday night that Grandma Donna was feverish and weaker even than she has been.  It's been well over three years since she was diagnosed with cancer, and slowly she's faded - baking less, sitting more.  She and grandpa moved into town the other year, and they stopped going to so many basketball games.  She put together a scrapbook with the help of her oldest grandchild, and when I would go visit these last years, I would sit for hours looking at that book and asking question about how life used to be.  I loved it - to know her history was to know mine.

In January when I was back in Kansas, she was in the hospital.  I visited her there, and we looked at old slides through a mechanical viewer.  When she was discharged back to the apartment, she was on hospice.  The last time I saw her was a Thursday afternoon - January 6, it must have been.  I stopped by the apartment at Kidron Bethel and took my seat on the left side of the love seat next to the end table that holds the peanut M&M's.  Grandma was in her recliner as usual.  While I was there the hospice chaplain stopped by and introduced himself and made small talk with Grandma and Grandpa, which isn't always easy.  There were the serious questions too:

How is it with yourself, with others, with your God?  Good.  Good.  Good.   

We left when she was tired, and as I walked toward my car, I wondered if it was the last time I'd see her.  Probably so.

Yesterday during the Sunday school hour after worship, we had a hymn sing.  We sat in our four parts and used the blue hymnal, singing song after song, acapella.  I sat behind my friends, and next to a woman who also spent some years at Grace Hill and who, yesterday, helped carry me along the alto line.  At about noon PST, someone, another native Kansas in fact, requested "For all the saints," #636: 

For all the saints, who from their labors rest, who thee by faith before the world confessed, thy name, O Jesus, be forever bless'd.  Alleluia, Alleluia. 

It's a funeral song.  Then other songs were requested - one from someone's dad's funeral, another from someone's grandpa's.  And we sang, boy can these folks sing.  As I thought about what song to request, I wondered which ones grandma has chosen for her memorial.  I'll find out soon. 

Surely she is a saint who from her labors now rests peacefully, as it should be.  A good life and a good death surrounded by her husband of decades and her four children.  She breathed her last at about 3:30 CST, less than two hours after we were singing memorial songs in Seattle.  I can't think of a better way to accompany her out of this world.

It is still the Easter season of the church year, a good season to die: death and new life, loss and resurrection, and that eternal sense that our bodies and our lives may not be what we had thought, after all.   Dear Grandma, be forever bless'd, allelua, alleluia.

The Apple Nut Bread Legacy

Last week the presidential debate was in Nashville, and it was big news. I planned to spend a relaxing evening at home participating in the political machinery of our country by fulfilling my civic duty as an engaged viewer of the historic event. All was going as planned when about halfway into the debate I suddenly got bored. Really it felt like two patronizing politicians attacking one another, skirting the questions, and spouting words that may or may not be relevant to the actual situation of your average American, a.k.a. Joe Sixpack. I simply lost interest and needed to turn toward other activities to pass the evening. At times like these, I find extraordinary pleasure in baking.

I turned to the Klaassen Family Cookbook, compiled last year by a cousin of mine. I also have on my shelf a cookbook from the Zerger family, my immediate family, and two church families of mine. There's nothing quite like knowing the person who passed on a recipe. It's as if in the act of cooking or baking, you become connected to that person.

The recipe I found for that fateful evening was my grandma's Apple Nut Bread. She had made this note: "This is a favorite when we do Kipcor (Kansas Institute for Peace and Conflict Resolution) for their morning break." She and another lady from my childhood church used to cater meals. In fact one lawyer once told her that the only reason he comes to those events is that he knows Donna's cooking. It becomes in those kinds of moments (the finding a cookbook, the catering, the lawyer moments) that my Kansas family comes into my house.

I made the recipe vegan for Jamie (I'm getting better with the egg replacer) and ate a healthy portion of batter as is my baking custom. On a whim I made muffins instead of bread, which turned out to be easier to share with a couple friends at school. And I tell you what, those were the best muffins I've ever made. The healthy amount of sugar and flour surely made them Mennonite; the carrots and applesause made them healthy and hard working; the egg replacer made them part of my present reality; the cinnamon and nutmeg made them home in that transcendent "home is where you find yourself" way. These muffins embodied my family from every which way. The greatest thing is not that though. The greatest thing also is not that I'm an exceptional baker. I'm not yet. (Give me another 45 years...) But in fact, all the credit for these muffins goes to my Grandma Donna. It is her legacy that lives on here in me.

APPLE NUT BREAD
DONNA KLAASSEN

1/2 cup packed shredded carrots
1 cup canned applesauce
1/2 cup oil
1 tsp vanilla
2 eggs, beated (egg replacer works just fine)
3/4 cup sugar
2 cups flour
1 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
1 tsp cinnamon
1/2 tsp nutmet
1/2 cup chopped walnuts (I left these out. My kitchen isn't so well stocked.)

Combine carrots, applesauce, oil, vanilla, eggs and sugar. Add remaining ingredients. Mix only until ingredients are blended. Do not over mix. Pour in greased and floured loaf pan. (These also make great muffins!) Sprinkle with 5 tbsp sugar and 1/2 tsp cinnamon. Bake 1 hour (or until tests done) in 325 degree oven.