Lily of the Valley
Never have I witnessed a spring descend upon the south with more vibrant splendor. The fields bordering the dusty dirt roads at the farm looked like a watercolor painting with yellow from wild turnips, varying shades of crimson and red from clover and sour weed, flora in every hue of green, and a carpet of little purple stars suspended on wild vines. The air was perfumed with the first signs of honey suckle and the breeze throbbed with the humming of bees. The colors of the fields were only rivaled by the canvas painted by the setting sun. The sky burned like a gas flame with brush strokes of orange, purple, and blue.
I think the lord knew we needed a glimpse of the promise of life eternal through any gifts our earthly home could provide. My precious Grandma went to heaven one afternoon during what could only be described as the crescendo of South Georgia spring blooms. The morning of her funeral Daddy sent a picture of azaleas bursting with flowers. She planted those very flowers in the front yard of their home at the farm decades before as a young mother and wife. The next week they wilted and disappeared as if they never existed. You will not convince me this wasn’t part of God’s perfect timing and his grace.
Mary Ann Brinson Brown was a consummate caretaker and a master of modesty almost to the point of humorless self-deprecation. She was always fretting about all the things she had not done. When in fact, she did Everything from cooking, managing a home, rearing 3 sons, looking after grandchildren, church duties, Bible reading, and being a devoted wife. Grandma always told me how smart I was and how she didn’t know how I did so much. I felt exactly the same way about her and all of her talents. I run a successful business and have received accolades but they all pale in comparison to the testimony of her life. Her trophies are in heaven and her legacy lives on through our close-knit family.
Franklin Sasser preached her funeral. Only a lifelong friend could weave a fabric of anecdotes so familiar and precious. He requested the grandchildren send their favorite memory. All our remembrances included a mention of Grandma’s “Creama Creama”. She lovingly made Cream of Wheat for breakfast and sometimes supper because our little mouths loved this savory dish! Franklin was intrigued to say the least! I have included the recipe of my interpretation of Grandma’s Creama Creama. Nobody’s will ever be as good as hers!
Grandma’s Creama Creama
1 c Water
2 c Milk
2 tsp. Salt
1 c Cream of Wheat
3 Tbs. Butter
1 c Sharp Cheddar
Salt and Pepper to
Bring the water, milk, and salt to a simmer. Whisk in cream of wheat. Whisk constantly 2-5 minutes until thickened. Add butter and cheese.
Add salt and pepper to taste. Serve hot with all the breakfast sides: bacon, eggs, toast, and waffles!
When I asked my gifted flower friend Foye to make a special arrangement for Grandma on Mother’s Day I knew it had to include Lily of the Valley.
This song makes me think of Grandma and fills me with peace abundant. Foye knew the story of Creama Creama, so she combed the internet until she found the perfect vessel to hold the arrangement.
What a treasure!!
Lily of the Valley
I’ve found a friend in Jesus, He’s everything to me,
He’s the fairest of ten thousand to my soul;
The Lily of the Valley, in Him alone I see
All I need to cleanse and make me fully whole.
In sorrow He’s my comfort, in trouble He’s my stay;
He tells me every care on Him to roll.
Refrain:
He’s the Lily of the Valley, the Bright and Morning Star,
He’s the fairest of ten thousand to my soul.
He all my grief has taken, and all my sorrows borne;
In temptation He’s my strong and mighty tow’r;
I’ve all for Him forsaken, and all my idols torn
From my heart and now He keeps me by His pow’r.
Though all the world forsake me, and Satan tempt me sore,
Through Jesus I shall safely reach the goal.
He’ll never, never leave me, nor yet forsake me here,
While I live by faith and do His blessed will;
A wall of fire about me, I’ve nothing now to fear,
From His manna He my hungry soul shall fill.
Then sweeping up to glory to see His blessed face,
Where rivers of delight shall ever roll.
