Connie A Thompson

On Cooking My First Sunday Dinner

One of the first Sunday Dinners at my home. Grandmother with two of her great-grandchildren.

One of the first Sunday Dinners at my home. Grandmother with two of her great-grandchildren.

It wasn’t much different for me than it had been most of my life. I got home from church in time to make the cornbread and assist my Mom in preparing dinner. Grandmother moved from her home to live with my mother and stepfather. She needed daily assistance and living alone was no longer an option. Mom claimed her house was too far away for anyone to come to and informed me we would now meet at my house.

My Saturdays were filled with cleaning and a trip to the grocery store. I warned my teens to clean their rooms. They did as they usually did and shut the door. My Mom and Grandmother got onto them.

photo 2-3

Decorative plates that first hung in Grandmother’s kitchen.

photo 1-3 Since I would now be hosting Sunday dinner, I had many of Grandmother’s things: pots, pans, casserole dishes, bowls, etc. I’m sorry to say that most of them didn’t survive a house full of teenagers. There are three things that survived, two plates and a biscuit cutter.

Grandmother's biscuit cutter

Grandmother’s biscuit cutter

There we all were on that first Sunday, a different place, but it became the new home of Sunday dinner. It isn’t the location; it is the people.

At my Grandmother’s funeral, I thought that’s a tradition I can let go of for awhile. I considered convincing my family to meet a restaurant. In the midst of my grandmother’s funeral, the preacher sought me out. He spoke of Sunday dinner and what it meant to my grandmother. He challenged me to continue her tradition.

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