It’s the Gifting, Not the Gadgets, That Produce Miracles in Life

(Mom's Kitchen, Vortexia) -- A luthier once told me that the ability of Russian violinists to perform with excellence on woefully inferior instruments was a testament to their legendary greatness. I know it to be true, because I recall a former violin teacher from the Ukraine showing me photographs of her family playing their violins at funerals held outdoors in sub-freezing temperatures; an environment guaranteed to render a violin nearly useless. They knew it was the spirit behind the fingers, not the instrument itself, that could made their music what it was. That teacher, and her daughter, played so exquisitely on their non-descript violins, I could only marvel at it.

In coming back to Iowa to be with my ailing father (who still lives in the same house I grew up in many decades ago), I discovered a domestic application to that phenomenon. I found it in the kitchen.

My mother was, by any definition, a great cook. Before Julia Child’s Mastering the Art of French Cooling hit America, my mother was putting butter and half-and-half on our oatmeal and making us home-made hot chocolate using melted dark chocolate, vanilla, sugar and cream. (Note: Did I say we were a family of ten? Six girls and two boys in a three-bedroom, one-bath house? And, yes, we were Catholic.) Perhaps her moxie was the result of being raised in a Depression-Era orphanage or maybe it was from marrying into a family of farmers and dairy producers. Regardless, mom made everything from scratch; breads, caramel rolls, pies, cakes, and cookies. Her culinary mastery wasn’t limited to sweets either. The best, most succulent meats, casseroles, soups and salads I’ve ever tasted have come from my mother’s kitchen.

You could say she personified Babette in Babette’s Feast. Like Babette, she could take a pot of water and a pound of meat and make it taste like heaven. Since her passing on April 8, 2006, those who knew her still rave about her cooking. Preparing food was her love medium, and to this day I can taste her love for me.

Here, back home in her Iowa kitchen, unchanged since she died, I am reminded that my mother set a bar that is personally unattainable. This revelation came when I opened the cupboard to retrieve a pan to cook dinner for my father. I panicked. There were no copper-bottomed, stainless steel skillets or state-of-the-art, non-stick cookware to choose from. No sturdy, shiny cooking utensils; no superfluous gizmos or gadgets. No Kitchen Aid mixer or food processors, definitely staples in my own scullery. Mom cooked with the cheapest accoutrements, with no one -- not a mother, or even the ubiquitous Food Network -- to guide her. Her accomplishments were sheer gifting.

As I prepared my father’s dinner that night using a battered old Teflon frying pan and a chewed-up plastic spatula, I wondered how I could possibly produce an edible meal with such poor quality cookware. Even following all of my mother’s recipes to a “T,” and relying heavily on modern gadgetries, my cooking never turns out as good as hers. Never. But, to my utter amazement, dinner turned out delicious. It was a miracle – it was as though it wouldn’t have mattered what I made. Somehow, I thought, whatever I prepare in my mom’s kitchen will be good.

I will return home having learned the metaphorical lesson; a lesson that brings me hope. Gifting needs no gadgetry to bloom. It is what it is. Use it, be confident in it, and it will blossom. Whether the gift is cooking, painting, writing, dancing, building, finances, nursing, teaching, praying, etc., if it is put into use, even without the trappings we think we need to excel, it will manifest.

After all, it’s not the instrument that produces excellence, it’s the Spirit within.