If you’re like me and you like baking, it is likely you often have conversations about it. I love it when friends or family send me pics of what they’ve made and share the experience of how the baking process went. I like doing the same as well.
There are certain periods, such as the build-up to special celebrations or around Christmas, where conversations about baking and trialing become rife. Whilst it may not be everyone’s cup of tea, I absolutely love it.
A friend had popped into my mind as I put a Christmas fruitcake into the oven yesterday. Last year, she had made a fruitcake using a recipe of a friend of hers who had tragically passed away. So, I dropped her a note, and inevitably, we discussed making fruitcake.
She mentioned how she loved the smell of the house when something has been baking. At that moment, the thing that had been pressing on my mind was the quality of the fruit I’d got this year. The cake supply shop that I’ve been going to for slightly over two decades had shut.
There are some major baking franchise outlets in my town. They are well-known ones, but as I picked up dried fruit for the fruitcake, I couldn’t help but notice the difference. Even when I cut up the fruit, I couldn’t help but think that they were much dryer than what I was used to. This came up in my conversation with my friend. I told my friend how I had instinctively set aside a few more egg whites for whisking, in the event the batter was dryer than usual, as a result of the fruit.
She commended me on my quick-thinking and went on to tease me for being a perfectionist in my baking. It was such an innocent comment, but it brought a whole load of memories flooding back to my mind.
I saw it as clear as day as I typed out my response about the strength of the memory associations that I had related to the dried fruit. At the core of it was how much I am missing my mum and dad.
When I first started baking at 13 years of age, baking supplies like dried fruit, weren’t easily available in the town I lived in. My dad would have to drive me to the city to get them. I remember my mum making calls to ask an aunt where they could be got, and my father, diligently driving me to get them.
When I first started baking, my parents weren’t sure if my interest was just a fad or if it was something that was going to grow. My mum was never much of a cook or baker, and we didn’t have an oven. I used an ovenette, which was quite horrific because you couldn’t control the heat. Since fruitcakes took a long time to bake, my mum and dad would help me play around with the heat, by turning the ovenette off for a minute or two, just to make sure the cake wouldn’t burn.
They loved the fruitcake and other cakes that I made, and by the time I was 15, they decided to buy me one of those big gas stoves with an oven at the bottom. I used that stove till 2020, when the freak flood that impacted my home destroyed it! Even with my new oven (at the time), supplies weren’t so easily available. My parents supported my baking through this. My mum would help me calculate what was needed and write a list, and my dad would drive me to get all the stuff I needed.
Maybe when I was about 17, things started changing. More things were available in my town. Sometime after I got back from university, the cake supplies shop opened up in the housing estate next to mine. I could walk to it, but usually, I drove because it wasn’t easy carrying home stuff that I had bought.
That cake supplies shop wasn’t a fancy shop at all. It was small and friendly, which I loved. The couple that ran it used to import dehydrated fruit from a family-run business in the US. The quality of the fruit was so notably different, that the first time I bought it, even my parents commented on how fresh it all was. I think as a family, we appreciated the turn of events.
These memories are very strong for me. When mum died in 2006, I found it hard to think of baking or anything. It was papa who slowly encouraged me to get back to it. Until he passed away in 2023, he was always an eager volunteer for tasting anything that came out of my oven.
Remembering this has made me realize why I feel a sense of deep sadness when I bake. When mummy passed away, that sadness came to reside. It has never left. Now with papa’s passing, it has taken up more space within. Oddly enough, I don’t want it to leave. It connects me to papa and mummy.
This simple act of buying ingredients and baking, make me feel such a strong connection to the home I once knew. This memory makes me see that so clearly. This is the home that shaped me – from my faith, to every mistake I’ve made, and every success I’ve achieved. It is the home that both my dad, Stephen and my mum, Leela, with all their imperfections built for me. It is the home I miss dearly.
I am grateful to God for my friend’s comment that triggered this entire memory. I am thankful to Him for the parents He blessed me with. I cannot thank Him enough. One of the Psalms that I like is Psalm 34, which is a Psalm of my favourite king David. Some of the verses in this Psalm are astounding:
- I will bless the LORD at all times; his praise shall continually be in my mouth (Psalm 34: 1)
- My soul makes its boast in the LORD; let the humble hear and be glad (Psalm 34: 2)
- Those who look to him (the LORD) are radiant, and their faces shall never be ashamed (Psalm 34: 5)
- Oh, taste and see that the LORD is good! Blessed is the man who takes refuge in him! (Psalm 34: 8)
- The LORD is near to the broken-hearted and saves the crushed in spirit (Psalm 34: 18)
There’s a lot more to this Psalm, but I like these verses because they are full of hope, and because they bless the LORD and recognize his goodness. The interesting thing about it all is that when David wrote this Psalm, his home at the palace was under threat because of king Saul.
David had fled into Philistine territory, which was enemy territory, and in order to survive this, he pretended to be out of his mind. It is hard to imagine how low one would have to be to act this way. It was an awful, awful time.
My life isn’t on the line like David’s was, and I am writing from far more comfortable settings than the Adullam caves, where he was likely hiding out. I know there is a debate on whether David sinned by feigning madness. Whilst I haven’t pretended to be mad (and let me just stop you right there, if you even think it’s because I don’t need to pretend!), I know that I have been called out for the sadness that I have felt.
I have spoken and written about this sadness. There have been times when I’ve been told that my faith is weak, and that I am not showing good Christian character when I express this sadness. I’ve been told that I am not showing strength.
It has been awful dealing with these. One of the comments after papa passed away was to the extent that since I had the experience of losing my mum, this wouldn’t be so hard to deal with. Who are they kidding? Do they know how present he was in my life?
I may be in my own version of the Adullam caves (with plumbing and without bats). My home as I knew and loved it, is no more. It is hard to explain this feeling to many people. I don’t have brothers or sisters who grew up alongside me. The only two people who shared in the most significant parts of my history, are no longer here. There’s so much of me that they knew, which no one else knew. There are elements of me that they brought out, which no one else can. Their absence as individuals and as a unit in my life is something I feel so keenly.
Yet, I hope that it is clear that despite this feeling of sadness, I have such a strong sense of thankfulness and gratefulness to God. He has given me so much for which I can only be thankful. When I look back at my parents and process our ups and downs, I can only say that I have been extraordinarily blessed.
I don’t need to prove the strength of my faith or character to anyone. This isn’t a dance that I’ll be doing. I miss my mum and dad so very much. I miss them unashamedly.
Papa and mummy, thank you for teaching me this faith. Thank you for growing me in Christ, and for helping me see that there is so much more ahead because of Jesus. I thank God for this blessing He gave me through you both. I thank Him for this memory that has triggered such a strong feeling of connection to you. Bless the Lord, indeed!
Grace for the soul 