Faith Works 12-25-21

Faith Works 12-25-21

Jeff Gill

A cup of sugar, a story for the season

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[In the Saturdays of December, a story is being told on the installment plan; this is the last of four parts.]

Mrs. Schaeffer at 642 was so happy to get her cookies from Mrs. Kern; as Melanie had been warned, it took a while, but from the front step she could see the procession of lights turned on one at a time inside until the older lady opened up her door.

"You're the young woman Mrs. Kern called me about, aren't you?"

"Yes, ma'am," was the instinctive reply. Mrs. Schaeffer was on a walker, but there was authority and strength in her voice that made her think of a teacher or professor of some sort.

"It's good of you to deliver these for her. If you could come on back to the kitchen and set them down; as you can see, I can't carry much." Pivoting around on the two wheels in the front of her walked, Mrs. Schaeffer made her way through the front room to the kitchen just through a wide archway.

"I'd make you a cup of coffee, but it's too late for either of us to be drinking that, even on a cold night." Mrs. Schaeffer stood herself up while standing within the security of the walker. "Can I invite you to come back some time and I promise you a good mugful, not that instant powder and hot water."

"Yes, certainly; I just have to get back to my boys tonight anyhow. But sure, sometime soon, I'd be happy to." Melanie realized she meant it, too.

"You still have some baking to do tonight, at any rate. Well, Merry Christmas to you and your sons, and I look forward to seeing you again. If you don't mind, just tug the door until it clicks behind you."

Melanie balanced the other two boxes she still had, and pulled the door shut, thinking about how she'd met more strangers tonight than she probably had in the last year, and both had felt like people she'd known for years. How odd, and all because of a cup of sugar.

She dropped the one box of cookies off at Mrs. Morley's at the door, the bag of sugar still under one arm, with a promise to check back in with her later, then finally back through her own front door.

The boys were in the back bedroom on a game console, and she sat down on a chair in her own kitchen, glancing up at the clock. It had felt like an epic adventure of a neighborhood sort, but barely half an hour had passed. Next to the stove already set to warm, the sifted flour and dry ingredients were there, and the bowl with softened butter waiting for the sugar was ready.

"Boys," Melanie called out. "Boys, come on into the kitchen."

Another half hour later, it was bedtime, and a first batch of sugar cookies were out of the oven. "These smell great!" was the unanimous opinion. Then the remembered bag of sprinkles and colored sugar in the coat pocket came out, and a last delay of bedtime with a festival of decorating (and some sprinkles on the floor to sweep up later).

Each got to eat one warm, and then a reminder to brush teeth before getting into bed. Melanie asked them, before they left the kitchen, "How would you like to bake a few more batches and take them to our neighbors?" They agreed that would be cool, especially if they could decorate them, too.

With the boys off to sleep, Melanie sat at the kitchen table thinking about cups and pounds and batches, how much waxed paper she had plus a few shoeboxes in the hall closet. With that five pound bag of sugar less one cup from her first batch, she had nine cups left. Maybe six more batches of cookies to share? For Mrs. Morley next door and Mrs. Kern at 648 and Mrs. Schaeffer at 642, plus her office mate at work, and maybe one for each of the boys's teachers?

Suddenly, somehow, the holiday ahead seemed brighter, bigger, and just a bit more merry. She started in on the next batch; maybe two more before turning in tonight, and a couple more with the boys after school.

If she ran out of anything else, she'd just go down to Mrs. Kern's to ask. And she found herself hoping that she'd have to.

Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and preacher in central Ohio; he hopes these columns have led a few people into baking their own batches of cookies. Let him know how you've gotten to share Christmas at knapsack77@gmail.com or follow @Knapsack on Twitter.