It was the smiles that did it - bright and happy, they were everywhere. And who wouldn't smile when faced with this?
It was all luscious creaminess atop Rosie's Scones with lashings of strawberry jam, loose leaf teas ready and waiting alongside Panera Bread scones nestled in amongst the true British versions. Irresistible!
And thus went the morning.
Bright and early a team of faithfuls had appeared outside the community center wherein church takes place each week. A huge trailer pulled up and backed in. The pastor said a prayer for us all, sharing that we do what we do in service 'to the Lord Christ', and for others. It was the sweetest thing.
And then, we were off! People rolled in massive containers filled with massive amounts of things one needs for church and Sunday school. Strong husbandly arms carried in the 190 scones, the heavy mixer, the jams and thick cream, everything needed for a splendid Cream Tea.
And then the work began. It seemed that as soon as one tray was whisked away, another one was needed. I was assisted by the valiant Carrie, whose smile lit up the kitchen and whose spreading skills made the job easy. And then, the energetic and enthusiastic eight-year-old arrived, becoming my especial helper and messenger.
"Run out there and see how many more they need!" I would cry. And he would run.
Soon a sudden shout came through: "Grandma! THEY LOVE YOUR SCONES and THEY WANT MORE!!!" And did we ever give them more.
There was for a time a lull in the activity, and my small companion and I sat companionably side by side, chatting (as is our wont) about anything and everything. But then, a holler through the service window requesting "MORE SCONES!" and we were off!
When everyone had eaten their fill and our duties were done, the six-year-old appeared, holding a lovely bouquet of Mother's Day flowers. "They're for you, Grandma!" she cried. There they all stood, the three darlings of my life, laughing and grinning up at me. However many grand moments that are still in my future, such a moment as this one will hardly be beat. "Thank you!" I said, whereupon the smallest of the three suddenly grasped my hand - and kissed it.
What can a person say to that?
As we were climbing into our cars, he piped, "Grandma? I don't like scones anymore."
"Oh? And why is that?" I enquired.
"Because I ate so many that NOW I AM SICK."
Oh dear. I actually think a few of the men were having a similar experience. There was clear evidence that when it comes to English scones piled high with goodness, you can never really eat just one.
And so the day was, dear Readers, a massive feat. A privilege. Even a delight. All the same, it might be a while before I can face another scone. Enough is enough.
See you along the way!