My custard broke.

Broke-a culinary mess in which the custard becomes lumpy and bumpy instead of smooth and creamy…usually from too much heat.

MY custard broke yesterday.

I wonder how many times SHE broke her custard…

I’m preparing the banana pudding for our family reunion…stirring, stirring, stirring, and thinking.

My family is coming to celebrate what would be the 104^th birthday of my great-grandmother.  She always made the banana pudding.  Everyone LOVED Grandma’s banana pudding.  I now make the banana pudding.  I hope I do it justice.

She was a beautiful woman.  She was the glue that held this family together.  She was full of encouraging words, but she would tell you “like it is.”  You did not want to let Grandma down.  Her’s was a life of struggle.  She had a lot of struggles…personal struggles, health struggles, life struggles, but it didn’t get her down.  That woman LOVED JESUS!!

Grandma made us promise that we wouldn’t quit.  “I don’t want you to stop having my dinners when I’m gone.”

“No, Grandma, we won’t.”

And we haven’t.  We may have been slack a year or two here or there, but we got together this weekend and it was wonderful.  These people are MY people.  They are MY blood.  They are my history and together we will share a future as the “big kid” still chases around the little kids.  The little ones change from season to season.  The “big one” doesn’t.  He knows who he is…and he is adored.

The “glue” has been called away from this earth, but her hold is still strong.  We still keep in touch.  We still try to get together.  We missed quite a few pieces to our family puzzle yesterday, but they were in our hearts..and stories.

If you want to defend your name…you better be here.

That one is a shout out to the “Brat.” She also knows who she is.

As I see all of these people together, these pieces of a whole…a family built on a good solid foundation of love and devotion, I wonder…

will I be the same kind of glue for my family?  Will I hold them together, cause them to stay close?  Please don’t let me be one of those crusty glue sticks that don’t even smear on the paper, let alone hold anything in place.

God, please fix my heart to share the kind of love that Grandma did.  Please help me be the “good glue.”

And I’ll keep working on that custard…