Thanksgiving breakfast was wonderful, as always. The hum of fellowship provides beautiful background music for the food that brings a flood of memories and sweet comfort. Wayne’s gravy is as close to mama’s as it gets, so I feel her sweet presence at the gathering. There’s just something about gravy that reminds me of grace. All the elements in a meal may be wonderfully prepared, but gravy that makes the meal special. God’s grace, like that wonderful gravy, covers all He so generously provides and leaves me feeling loved in a very special way.
Anytime I have grits and gravy together, which isn’t nearly often enough, I think of Evelyn Tooley Hunt’s poem “Mama is a Sunrise.”
“Mama Is a Sunrise”
by Evelyn Tooley Hunt
When she comes slip-footing through the door,
she kindles us
like lump coal lighted,
and we wake up glowing.
She puts a spark even in Papa’s eyes
and turns out all our darkness.
When she comes sweet-talking in the room,
she warms us
like grits and gravy,
and we rise up shining.
Even at nighttime Mama is a sunrise
that promises tomorrow and tomorrow.
I cannot read that poem without thinking of Mary Sue. Mama warmed me like grits and gravy every morning, and I thought of her today as I ate food lovingly prepared by those willing to get up a early and serve others. It’s what love is all about, and love is at the heart of grace and good gravy!
I don’t know or care if the streets of heaven are paved with gold, but I’m thinking the lakes are most likely filled with mama’s gravy. Grace and gravy have a lot in common, so I believe the connection can be made without offending any theologians. I know God would agree because He knows how gravy prepared with love makes a meal very special. He also knows His grace makes love special and warms my heart even more than mama’s grits and gravy:)