Beangirl has started cooking. A few weeks ago, we were at the library and she rummaged around the information section, looking for something new. (Yes, that’s what they are calling it now. Fiction and Information. Hmm…) For quite a while, she was mad about ancient Egypt so I assumed that she’d bring home another guide to pyramids, but it turned out she was looking for something a little more practical. She found a great, step by step cookbook called something like “Mummy and Me Baking.” Back home, and a few spousal cringes alongside a bit of required feminist unpacking later, she headed to the kitchen with the book tucked under her arm. I tagged along to watch.
The first thing she made was quiche. She won’t eat quiche. But this was different. Personal portions and cleverly called Veggie Wheels. All I did was answer questions about rubbing butter into flour and how big the broccoli bits should be. We puzzled that through together, but she only wanted me to watch as she rolled out the pastry. All the work was hers. And the quiches were delicious. We each ate one with dinner, and both Blue and Plum asked for more, but the chef said a firm no. The remaining 8 were set aside for her school lunches – two each day, Monday through Thursday. The kids have a half day on Fridays and she wondered if maybe she could make some more then. Since then, she’s made bread, strawberry pancakes and cheese and onion scones. Tonight, she helped with the cheese sauce for our mac and cheese and then made baked apples for dessert.
I love this. I love that I have an eight year old who makes good pastry. And that everyone in my house now likes quiche. But more than the deliciousness she’s sharing – and more, too, than the delight the Spouse and I are feeling about her really helpful involvement in meal preparation, I love watching her develop new capabilities. It is beautiful watching her figuring out what she can do, what she wants to do, how she wants to do it. And maybe a little bit, too, about how she might ask for help when she needs it. Because that, too, is part of developing capability.
Today is the feast of the Visitation, which normally falls on the 31st of May, but because yesterday was Trinity Sunday, it is being marked today. I found out about it on Malcolm Guite’s blog. He is a remarkable poet who has traced the liturgical year in his sonnet cycle Sounding the Seasons. He writes:
“The Visitation celebrates the lovely moment in Luke’s Gospel (1:41-56) when Mary goes to visit her cousin Elizabeth, who was also, against all expectations, bearing a child, the child who would be John the Baptist. Luke tells us that the Holy Spirit came upon them, that the babe in Elizabeth’s womb ‘leaped for joy’ when he heard Mary’s voice, and it is even as the older woman blesses the younger, that Mary gives voice to the Magnificat, the most beautiful and revolutionary hymn in the world. There is much for the modern world to ponder in this tale of God’s blessing and prophecy on and from the margins…”
No one would have through that either Mary or Elizabeth could be a good mother. Too young, too old, unmarried, too established, and not at all what anyone expected. Yet, we know that through the prompting of the Spirit, they both became capable. They became the places where God shaped a surprising love. Prophet love. Messiah love. The very love that makes the rough ways smooth and makes the wilderness sing. This love called these unlikely women mothers. And it was our living, loving God who gave them the strength and capability they needed to nurture that gift of love. God nurtured these mothering daughters as they learned to nurture this God-given love within themselves. What a beautiful example of the reciprocal covenant relation! But the covenant doesn’t end there – it is never just between God and one person. It’s always bigger than that. So God gives to Mary and Elizabeth the gift of each other. When she’s with Mary, Elizabeth can give voice to the stirring of blessing within her. And Elizabeth was there to hear Mary’s song.
‘My soul glorifies the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior.” Luke 1: 47
I love this, too. God’s living love surprises us. It grows where we see no potential. It sparks startling newness. It births community. And it fills our deepest hunger with good, rich food.
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You can find Malcolm Guite’s Visitation sonnet here.
