Butter On Bread

Apostle Paul said, "But do not use your freedom to indulge the flesh; rather, serve one another humbly in love" (Galatians 5:13-14).

Now that I have developed an adult brain, the reality of my childhood leaves small details that remind me of what matters most. I was like a stereotypical Charlie Bucket from the book ‘Charlie and the Chocolate Factory,’ growing up in a poor family affected by addiction and traumatic experiences. Looking back helps me see proof of compassion through my understanding of empathy. I adored my great-grandmother, Elizabeth Smith. She had a high level of sensitivity that matched the hardened demeanors plaguing my family. Her giving nature made Elizabeth a truly special person. Throughout my life, I have encountered many examples of such kindness, but she was an authentic soul who exhibited tenacity.

Elizabeth might have rarely remembered to unplug the iron, but she never forgot how to love. She hugged me every time I entered a room. She had feared everyone and everything outside her home, but family gave her a sense of belonging. As a young person seeking validation from anyone who would see the pain behind my victimized eyes, she constantly looked into my soul, knowing exactly what would make me smile. Her efforts defined what love represents, as she cared deeply for the people she influenced.

My Grandma Fatso, or Annabelle (she preferred Fatso), and Elizabeth stretched our food far beyond imagination. Looking back, we grandchildren thought we devoured meals piled high on plates. They had very little to give, yet they baked daily treats that satisfied our sweet cravings. I now know it was sinful to indulge. Still, it was more than just the cakes, pies, cookies, and homemade donuts that sweetened our relationships. I was the luckiest and yet most unfortunate child in the world.

I ate meals consisting of meat, potatoes, and homemade noodles, stewed to perfection. My taste buds exploded with flavors of herbs and spices that reflected the care she put into each dish. Elizabeth sat at the table, eating only butter on bread to ensure my stomach remained full, making me a healthy boy. Do you recognize the sacrifice of a loved one willing to starve for the nourishment of a child? I do. The thoughtfulness she showed me taught me valuable lessons that I cherish.

As a teenager, I became homeless because of my grandma’s failing health. I struggled to have the same privileges that I once had. Most nights, I lay my head on concrete, and the idea that where one’s head rests is a home made me resentful. I visited Elizabeth and stole money from her purse. My shame haunted me for decades until I learned to forgive myself. The fourteen years during which her influence did not spare the rod, but still spoiled me, remained on my conscience. I have always known right from wrong. I had to confront the actions of an immature child to grow into a decent man.

I understand the value of butter on bread. The idea that this simple snack, accompanied by some creamy spread, served as a means to an end was an endearing sentiment that Elizabeth understood. When special people do amazing things, the recipients of such blessings must pay it forward. However, when we consider bread with butter, the sacrifice of providing for others relies on uncommon qualities. In many families, it’s easy to think that providing for one’s own family is enough. God invites us to serve one another.