In the fall of 2011, our family suffered a great loss with the passing of both of my husband's grandparents. Ever since the early spring of 1999, when the husband was only the boyfriend and I was brought home to meet the family, Granny always treated me as one of her own. Granny knew how to change food into a meal. It was something to gather for... just taking your plate and casually sitting on the couch just simply wasn't done at Granny's house.... the food and the conversation were worth sitting down at the table for. Many meals were accompanied by the presence of a cast iron skillet still warm from the oven with freshly made cornbread just waiting to be sliced. I think I will always miss the smell of that cornbread. She would always just shrug and say "well, it's not much" as she would lay out her freshly made goods. From mashed potatoes (the best) to peach cobbler to a pot of vegetable soup she always "just happened" to make when you stopped by. My heart aches for those meals. True comfort food. Soul food. But as I have reflected over what exactly I miss the most... it has made my heart ache for simpler things. Slower, more deliberate living. The values and the beauty of a life lived honoring family and friendships, raising children and a garden and learning to properly tend and weed them both. Learning just the right timing to put the skillet in the oven... that is the legacy left behind. Our story unfolds as we seek to live into that legacy. The legacy of the cornbread skillet.