On Apple Pie & Groundedness

Like I said, the peeling, slicing, spicing, and baking of the great American fall centerpiece, the apple pie, filled one of my days last week. With fresh apples from the orchard, and a family crust recipe, fall never seemed dearer.

The closer I get to a settled adult life of my own- and I really feel like I'm finally settling- the more I seem to want to find connecting strands between my home and family of growing up, and the home and family that is now mine to create.

Pie. Homemade crust of the best recipe, passed down from Granny Thompson, now perfected into a sort of fame by my Momma. With extra scoops of beauty, flavor, and love. They are a part of every holiday and every season in the home I come from.

Strawberry, cherry, blueberry, and raspberry for summer.

Pecan, pumpkin, derby, and apple for Thanksgiving.

Banana cream, chocolate mousse, peanut butter, and more derby for Christmas.

Rhubarb, peach, and more derby.

Those pies hold so much more than hot juices baked from fresh fruits, so much more than pads of butter and sprinkled spices. They hold stability and reassurance. A deep layer of love and belonging. A tradition of celebration and joy.

I may not be a natural at crafting these pies (shaping and crimping the crust gives me fits!), but I will master this art. When you're 26 and finding your life, it's grounding to know that you can be a part of a legacy. When there's so much you still don't know, you at least know you can bake pies for your family and friends, like your momma and your granny and your sister. That of all the things you will be, you will be the next Thompson woman to roll out that dough and make all the different people who come into your home feel warm and loved.

And by the way our RA boys responded to their slices of that apple pie on Tuesday night small group in my apartment, I'm feeling confident that even though my pies may not be perfect yet, all the important parts were there.

So, there's a groundedness that baking apple pies this fall brings to me.

What might that groundedness be for you? How do you make your family one of heritage, how do you make your life part of a larger story? Whether reaching to the past, or creating for the future, let's make a legacy for ourselves and those who belong to us. And when you need it, or they need it, that groundedness will be there. For me and my family, it's in the crust.