Legend has it that a woman in our church bakes muffins every morning. I write “legend” because it’s been years since I heard she does this, and I only heard it once. It was during a weekly bible study for women held at the church I attend, when this woman, I’m going to call her Maggie, placed fresh muffins neatly lined in a Longaburger basket on the table.
“Oh, Maggie. What did you do?” one woman chided as she reached for a muffin.
“I can’t believe you make these every day,” another one said, peeling back the paper liner and breaking the muffin so steam floated up and I smelled nutmeg.
Maggie told them in her quiet, humble way, that it’s not that big a deal. The base is the same: flour, sugar, baking powder, salt. The liquid stays constant, too: eggs, buttermilk, vanilla, and melted butter. Everything else you make up – throw in chopped fresh cranberries, chocolate chips, walnuts if you like, though they’re best if you roast them for a few minutes beforehand.
I loved listening to Maggie. She is slow to speak but every word is drenched in a soothing, subtle strength, and listening to her is like eating the most delicious, hearty meal. But it’s a meal that makes you want to do something: run a race, feed the poor, learn to knit, tend to the sick.
Read the rest on Coffee+Crumbs.
this is too painful and beautiful for words. thank you for giving it to us.