The Old Scarred Pan

“Grandma, he had often wanted to say, Is this where the world began? For surely it had begun in no other than a place like this. The kitchen, without doubt, was the center of creation, all things revolved about it; it was the pediment that sustained the temple.”
― Ray Bradbury, Dandelion Wine

When our loved ones pass on, we are left with an empty space in our lives where their life energy and purpose had been. We often cling to physical objects connected to them that evoke fond memories of moments in time and snapshots of their lives. The objects can be many and varied. Aunt Flo’s Revlon Cherries in the Snow lipstick left remnants of kisses on all those she loved. Grandma Dollie’s quilts, whose warmth comforted many a sick child, adorned the beds of family, friends, and community members. Grandma Foell’s recipe box, more like a treasure chest, keeps living from one generation to another through handwritten, ingredient stained recipes which fed the few and the many through the decades. One glance at these objects takes us right back to a moment in time when their lives touched ours in profound ways and filled our souls with comfort and love.

My sister and I had the arduous task of cleaning out and packing up our mother’s home for selling when she could no longer live alone. The thought of having to dispense a lifetime of possessions was daunting, to say the least. Some things we threw away. Some things we gave to charity. We offered many things for free to the community in which she lived with the option of donating money in a jar for her church. It made Mama happy to know her friends could enjoy her possessions. Some items we divided between us to take to our homes, only because we knew Mama could not bear to get rid of them. Family treasures, like old quilts and trunks, were divided among the family.

I was boxing up Mama’s kitchen, thinking of what young couples in the community might be blessed by her dishes, silverware, or glasses. Mama didn’t have the finest of things, but what she had was seasoned and well-worn. Not only did they do the job, but what was created in her kitchen over the years was comparable if not better than the creations of an experienced chef. Every Sunday, the aroma of a roast cooked in her cast iron dutch oven filled the house, beckoning all to get to church just so they could get home and eat it.

While boxing up Mama’s kitchen, I came to the cabinet with her baking pans. A video reel began to play in my mind of the many baked goods made in those old pans – hot buttered homemade biscuits, coconut cake, blueberry surprise, lemon ice-box dessert, dump cake, and so much more. I selected one old pan charred and aged from years of trips in and out of Mama’s oven and set it aside. I glanced at the side of the once shiny pan that was now tarnished and scratched with age and saw a small sticker labeled Pratt. The pan had meant enough to my mother that she wanted to be sure it always found its way home.

I asked my mother if I could keep the pan. Looking at me startled, she said, “Why on earth would you want that old burnt pan? You have much nicer pans than that at home.” I could not, at the time, give her a reason, it was very unclear in my mind as to why I wanted it. Some years later, after Mama’s mission was done, and God called her home, I was washing the pan seasoned with memories and tempered through trial and grace. It was then I knew why I wanted Mama’s pan.

That pan defined Mama as much as the color of her hair or the lines in her face. It held desserts baked with love when all the family gathered for Thanksgiving or Christmas. The teasing aroma of her homemade biscuits slathered in butter baked in the pan filled the house, awakening everyone from their sleepy state. Holiday after holiday, year after year, the old pan could be seen sitting on Mama’s counter filled with something delightful. It always beckoned us back when no one was looking, with the thought, “I only want one little taste,” but it was never enough.

Mama’s pan went to church more times than some people I know. It attended every dinner on the ground, church reunion, birthday celebration, and church get-together. Mama baked one of her famous coconut cakes or blueberry cheesecake desserts or perhaps something new she had found in a magazine. She loved sharing what she had with others, even when she didn’t have a lot. And if it was a funeral she was baking for, the old worn sticker on the side with her name made sure it found its way home.

One thing was certain, a dessert was always ready to serve anyone from the community who dropped by to visit, even if it was an unexpected visit, which was often the case. Mama’s dear friend from the community, Maxie, stopped by every day to deliver the mail. He always came in and sat at Mama’s kitchen table while she served him up a hot fresh cup of Community Coffee and a slice of something baked in the old pan. The conversations that old pan must have heard down through the years around that kitchen table could probably fill a book. Friends, community members, church members, and Pastors loved to stop by Mama’s house because she was a true southern lady who understood the art of hospitality. It was who she was.

That old pan and Mama had a lot in common. It held secrets – countless recipes, heartfelt conversations, and picture-less memories – all locked away inside its scars. Mama was old and well-worn, just like the pan, and bore the scratches and marks that come with a life filled with hills and valleys, triumphs and defeats. But for all the sands of time had dealt them both, nothing but love came from them.

Stephen Covey writes in The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People, “Begin with the end in mind.” How would I want to be remembered? What things would I want said of me at the end of my days? I can sure take a lesson from the old scarred pan. I want it to be said of me “She died completely empty, having given all she had.” On that note, that old pan and I have miles to go before we sleep.

Proverbs 31:14-15 – She is like the ships of the merchant; she brings her food from afar. She rises while it is yet night and provides food for her household and portions for her maidens (ESV).