The Wooden Spoon

My Grandpa was an amazing cook. His sauce legendary. The story was that the secret was the wooden spoon. I remember as a child the adults would rationalize that it must be true. Years and years of flavors were stored up in that one spoon. Everything stirred with that spoon was imparted with the deliciousness of the ages past. As a child I remember looking at that spoon and wondering- could that really be true?

Sigh. This is what Italians tell their children.

Not long ago we were cleaning out my Grandparent’s kitchen and I saw the spoon. The wooden spoon. Now perhaps there was more than one. Perhaps this was not the golden spoon that turns ordinary tomatoes into feasts fit for kings. To keep the family peace we will leave it a mystery. (I love you family :))

Seriously though, I held the spoon and it meant something to me. It is a significant inheritance. No, I don’t think it holds the ability to make an amazing sauce. Yet, when I held the spoon I remembered. I remembered making ravioli’s and meatballs with Grandpa. I remembered Grandpa in his boxers and apron. I remembered his smile. His generosity. His love. He was not a perfect man. He was a man who loved.

The spoon is burnt. It is scuffed and sealed with years of high fat frying. It tells a story and invites those to remember. And reminds me to be thankful. Your family may not be perfect but it is beautiful and the story it tells can be made beautiful.

I’m just an ordinary wooden spoon, stirring an ordinary pot of tomatoes. But I have received an inheritance that is powerful and rich. I am thankful. I am thankful for my family. I am thankful for my friends.

I am thankful for my Savior, who makes all things beautiful just in time.


You are greater than you think are. You are created for a purpose.

“If you are afraid of who you are it may be because you are greater than you think. ” Fount Schults


Lia D


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