grandma's potato salad

This is my mother-in-law, the Preacher's mother. She was the sweetest woman, and I could not have asked for a better mother-in-law.

She loved to bake, especially fruit pies. Her pie crust was amazing. It was so flaky and buttery. Sometimes all I wanted was the crust. I could pass up the fruit but not that crust.

Another dish that she would make was potato salad. We all loved her potato salad. If there was a pot-luck dinner scheduled at the church, people would request her salad. It was so creamy and sweet with a little crunch from the bacon.

No one in the family would attempt to make it. It was her salad and only she could make it! She would boil the red potatoes and her eggs. And then see would gather all the other ingredients, place them on the table and there she would sit and make the magic happen. 

After she passed away in 2010, among the hundreds of things we missed about her, we missed her potato salad. The Preacher and I would attempt making it on a few occasions but it never seemed to come out right. 

A couple of weeks ago the weather was beautiful. The day felt like we were finally coming out of winter's chill. The Preacher decided to grill some steaks. I cleaned the patio table, excited to sit out in the spring's sunshine.

The Preacher asked me to fix a salad to go with the steaks and we both knew what we needed to make -- Grandma's potato salad!

I boiled the red potatoes and the eggs and I fried some bacon. I set out the other ingredients: mayo, mustard, celery seeds, salt and pepper, and I chopped some dill pickles. When it was all combined we had a potato salad that was as good as my mother-in-law's! 

We were very excited that we had replicated her recipe and it felt good to honor the Preacher's mother, Joan Smith.

who am I?

Who am I? There are days when I can't answer that question. 

There are days when I am lost in a mind fog. There are days when I wonder why am I this way. There are days when I wonder why can't I be like (fill in the blank)?

I have always been an introvert. Growing up I never knew there was a word for the way I felt. I just knew that life outside of my own home and family was sometimes difficult. I have always felt self-conscious of how I looked, of the clothes I wore, how I talked, what I said, and on and on. If I thought for an instant that someone might laugh at me for doing something or saying something, then you can be sure, I would not do it or say it.

I just read in the book, Bird by Bird, by Anne Lamott, that "what people somehow forgot to mention when we were children was that we need to make messes in order to find out who we are and why we are here". I wish someone had told me that years ago.

And then there are the times when I get really brave and say to myself, "don't worry about what they will say! Go, even if it does make a mess." Then there are days when I do things because I don't want to become what is expected of me because of my age, my standing in life or even because I'm a girl.

I will never be famous or even infamous. I am and always will be just me. The girl who will struggle with an identity and the girl who knows exactly who she is. 

But...this week I was told by a Christian sister that she thought it was a pleasure to do ministry with another woman who has just a hint of rebel in her. I like that!

Rebel –– today that's who I am!