Family, cooking, and tradition all take place in the kitchen.
Momma cooks, I watch, we pray, and then we eat.
I used to sit at the bar stool and watch my momma cook, her hands rolling out her famous sugar cookie dough, beating eggs for a birthday cake, or flipping bacon sizzling on the hot skillet.
No matter how many questions I asked her, my momma would always answer me without any hint or irritation in her voice and demonstrate what she was doing.
She always let me help her no matter how much of an inconvenience it would be or how much more time it would take her to finish cooking, I was always met with a welcome smile and a helpful hand.
My mom learned to cook from her mom, and her from her mom and so on, so my mom teaching me how to cook is no surprise.
I actually enjoy cooking because food is like medicine in our family. If you have a cold, you eat turkey noodle soup. If you have a broken heart, you eat brownies with Blue Bell ice cream on top. If you have a bad day, you eat chicken spaghetti.
Cooking causes you to be at peace with yourself. While cooking for others, you realize how blessed you are and how thankful you are for all that you have been given. It creates a humble spirit in you and a desire to do something nice for someone who may not necessarily be able to do it for themselves.
For me, cooking not only brings back happy memories of me and my mom, but it also helps me realize how blessed I truly am in life.