When I was growing up, every Sunday after church we had pot roast, mashed potatoes, peas, gravy, and Brown ‘n’ Serve rolls. I can smell it now.
I never quite got the hang of going off to church and still managing to put a great meal on the table more or less immediately after getting home. My poor kids ate sandwiches or leftover mac ‘n’ cheese. When I mentioned that to Mom recently she said,
“You just get a piece of meat, put it in the oven, go to church, and when you get home it’s done.”
Seems simple enough. I trip over the part about leaving meat in the oven unattended. I’ll use a slow cooker, but I don’t trust myself to get the temperature and timing right and actually leave the house with that roast in the oven.
So I suppose I’ll never come home from church to the promise of dinner lingering in the air. But the memory of it, Sunday after Sunday, reminds me of so much of what I could count on in my childhood. Only now am I coming to appreciate what that meant to my sense of security and confidence.