Raised on Faith, Filled with Food, Blessed by Love

When my friend Shirley dropped by the other day, she sat down at my kitchen table to talk, just like everybody does who comes to visit me. I have six tables in various rooms throughout my house, but the kitchen table is where everyone automatically gathers. That day Shirley sat at the table and said, “Hey, T” (lots of people call me T), “what do you have to eat? I’m hungry.”

I shook my head, a little embarrassed, and admitted, “Honey, I’m sorry, but I don’t have a thing prepared to eat.”

She laughed and told me, “Girl, Mama Harrell would turn over in her grave if she knew you didn’t have anything cooked and nothing in your refrigerator! You’re not living out her legacy.”

I answered, “That’s right, baby. I’m working smarter, not harder!”

It’s not that I don’t cook—not by a long shot. I cook plenty. A little later I’ll tell you how I put on some mouth-watering feasts when my family descends on my house on a routine basis. But I don’t spend my life in the kitchen, and I’ve found some shortcuts along the way that make the time I do spend there a whole lot easier than they were when I was growing up in Mama Harrell’s kitchen.

Mama Harrell was my great-grandmother—I called her Granny. She and my great-grandfather—he was known as Daddy Harrell—took me to raise when my mother became too ill to take care of me. We were poor and lived in a back-alley apartment, but Granny always found ways to serve three huge meals a day—hearty stuff that stuck to your bones. For breakfast we’d have bacon and ham and eggs plus toast and jelly and maybe pancakes too. For lunch Granny would serve some kind of meat and vegetables plus salad and bread. Then for dinner she would often fix two kinds of meat, three different vegetables, bread, and salad. We drank iced tea brewed with Granny’s home-grown mint. And whenever I remember Granny’s delicious homemade dinner rolls dripping with a pat of real butter and her homemade preserves, I’ll have what must be similar to an out-of-body experience. Those dinner rolls were the best. And on top of all that, there was always something sweet for dessert.

Granny always had plenty of food. It was important to her to be ready to feed anyone who might come by—and lots of friends, neighbors, and relatives did just that. They would eat and eat and eat then finally push back from the table and say, “Oh, Mama, that was so good.”

Granny always had plenty of faith too. And she shared it just as readily as she did her cooking. It wasn’t unusual for Granny and me to be in church every day of the week, either attending a worship service, a Bible study, a women’s meeting, or just helping with the cleaning. Granny loved Jesus with every morsel of her mind, body, and soul, and she taught me to love him the same way. She incorporated that love into everything she did, and it flowed out of her and into everyone she came in contact with.

I loved being with Granny, and since she spent most of her time in the kitchen, that’s where I was too. As we worked together, I learned a lot about cooking, a lot about life, and a lot about the Lord. I watched what she did—in the kitchen and out in the world—and I listened to what she told me. All my life I’ve tried to remember and live out the lessons she taught me. And let me just say, some of those lessons, I learned the hard way!

Now I’m trying to follow Granny’s example and provide my children and grandchildren with the same kind of love-filled, food-flavored, Scripture-stitched memories I had growing up—or even better.

In this book I also want to share with you some of the lessons I’ve learned and some of the experiences I’ve had. I’ll show you some of the ways I’m passing on those lessons to my family and to others around me. I’ll also tell you about some of the ways I’ve decided not to follow in Granny’s footsteps. For example, I don’t ever plan to chase a chicken around the backyard and wring its neck to make sure it’s fresh enough to feed my family! And I’ve given up trying to grow my own fresh vegetables, like Granny did. I tried it once or twice, but it turns out you have to remember to water the poor little things, and I never could manage to do that.

(although, because they cost a little more, Granny probably
wouldn’t approve of a single one of the convenience foods
I use to replicate her family feasts). While Granny shared
the love of the Lord with everyone in her family and her
neighborhood, I’ve been blessed with opportunities to
share it with others around the world in my speaking and
ministry activities. I know that would please her.

Yes, there are differences in the way I do things and how Granny did them. Mama T’s kitchen operation is quite a bit different than Mama Harrell’s was. So I’ll also share some of the lessons I’ve learned on my own, sprinkling in some of my streamlined cooking tips and a recipe or two along the way. I’ll also stir in a good portion of spiritual food gleaned from God’s Word.

By the time we’re finished, I hope you’ll feel as though you’ve dropped by, like my friend Shirley did, and sat down at my kitchen table to visit and to have an entertaining and stimulating discussion. Like Shirley, you won’t leave with a full stomach—sorry I couldn’t package up this book with a big mess of Mama T’s famous turnip greens for you—but I hope your heart will be running over with a fresh understanding of God’s love and your mind will be churning with new ideas for creating fun memories and leaving a lasting legacy to your family and friends.

And one last thing. Just to set the record straight, I have a couple of college degrees, and so does my editor. We’ve learned our grammar lessons; we know there “ain’t no such word as ain’t”—and a whole lot of other rules too. But listen up, honey: around my kitchen table, we serve it up family style. That means we say it however it sounds best, and if it sounds best with bad grammar and madeup words then, sister, that’s how you’re gonna get it. If you need something interpreted, contact me through my Web site, thelmawells.com, or call my office at 800-843-5622, and we’ll try to explain it to you—and share a laugh while we’re doing it.

Excerpted with permission from Listen Up, Honey by Thelma Wells, © 2006 Thelma Wells. Published by W Publishing Group, a division of Thomas Nelson, Inc. All Rights Reserved.