Lord of all pots and pans and things,
since I've not time to be
A saint by doing lovely things
or watching late with Thee
Or dreaming in the dawn light
or storming Heaven's gates
Make me a saint by getting meals
and washing up the plates.
Although I must have Martha's hands,
I have a Mary mind
And when I black the boots and shoes,
Thy sandals, Lord, I find.
I think of how they trod the earth,
what time I scrub the floor
Accept this meditation Lord,
I haven't time for more.
Warm all the kitchen with Thy love,
and light it with Thy peace
Forgive me all my worrying
and make my grumbling cease.
Thou who didst love to give men food,
in room or by the sea
Accept this service that I do,
I do it unto Thee.
I have always loved this poem, The Kitchen Prayer, by Klara Munkres. You can sometimes find it printed and framed, just perfect for hanging in your kitchen. I love a kitchen that is filled with homey things like this . . .
These are the special little touches that make a house a home.
Oh how I long to have a big country kitchen with lots of space . . .
walls to hang the things I love upon . . .
I would adore a sheet of framed Stained Glass to hang on the side window.
Something beautiful to let the light enter . . . in a very special way.
A window sill . . . filled with growing herbsand sunshine.
A bit of greenery, both beautiful and practical . . .
the room filled with the wonderful fragrance of the earth and all it's goodness . . .
and tasty things to come . . .
A window just above the sink which looks out over the garden . . . a place to stand and dream . . . and think . . . with arms . . . elbow deep in sudsy water, as I go about the business of clearing up. A window always makes this chore somehow not a chore . . . but a pleasant interlude . . .
An old fashioned wooden screened door . . . that creaks when it opens and snaps when it shuts . . . that is the sound of home, I think . . .
I hear my mother's voice . . . echoing in my mind . . .
"Don't slam the door!" . . .
and then the sigh . . . too late . . .
A big old cabinet, just right for holding all the bits and bobs . . .
and whimsies . . . and collections.
Pleasing to the eye . . .
and to the soul . . .
A little corner where batters are beaten . . .
and pie crust rolled . . . and cookies stamped,
where bread is mixed and kneaded, in the old fashioned way . . .
and covered with a white cloth and left to rise . . .
that little oomph it gives . . . when you punch it down,
and the smell . . . that yeasty smell that bespeaks to my heart of "home-sweet-home"
freshly baked and out of the oven . . .
the tops gilded and golden and swiped with a butter wrapper, just so . . .
A homey stack of clean tea towels . . .
freshly laundered and gilded by the warmth of the sun . . .
oh that smell . . . that smell.
Clean linen and sunshine and fresh air . . .
the crisp feel of the fabric beneath your fingers as they glide across dishes
warm and soapy from a recent bath . . .
in Sunlight soap . . .
A careworn table where elbows rest and hands fold together in prayer . . . bread is broken . . .
laughter is heard, and tears are shed, good food and love and problems sorted and solved . . .
the family seat . . .
Old rag rugs . . . and wooden floors . . .
care worn and polished . . .
by the sands of time . . .
creaky . . . homey . . . simple and sweet . . .
A place for everything . . .
and everything in it's place . . .
love, laughter, soul . . .
in the heart of the home.
(Ahh . . . tis fun to dream is it not??)
This will just have to do . . .
Cooking in The English Kitchen today . . . Ginger Cheesecake Squares.
mmmmm . . .
'A thankful [grateful] person is a powerful person.' - Joyce Meyer