Several years ago, a prominent female politician angered many American women when she answered a reporter about her choice of career over homemaking by saying, “Well I suppose I could have stayed home and baked cookies.” Most of us read a sneer in her tone and, as I remember it, her office was inundated with homemade cookies baked and sent by outraged homemakers.
One of the things I decided to do as a homemaker was to keep a cookie jar filled with homemade cookies, and for the most part I have. Chewy oatmeal raisin, spicy gingersnaps, crumbly peanut butter, sparkly snickerdoodles, decadent triple chocolate, wonderful almond crunch cookies that always surprise people and steal the show, and all those variations of the All-American chocolate chip: Toll House, Neimann Marcus, peanut butter chocolate chip, double chocolate chip, oatmeal chocolate chip, and death by chocolate chocolate chip. My boys would come home from their friends’ houses talking about how deprived they were—all they had were Oreos.
My younger son Nathan was especially fond of cookies. As a toddler, he would pull up a chair to stand in so he could “help” me make cookies—help that usually involved tasting the dough to make sure it was good, and then “cleaning” the beaters. When he was in high school, I bought him a shirt that said, Life’s Greatest Questions: Who Am I? Where Did I Come From? Why Am I Here? WHERE ARE THE COOKIES?
Eventually that chubby, tow-headed, blue-eyed cherub became a long, lean man who went off to college. The first time he came home he brought a friend with him. He immediately led the buddy to the counter where the cookie jar always sat. “See? I told you there would be cookies.” Until he married I would bake cookies and save a dozen each week in a freezer bag until I had 4 or 5 kinds, then mail them to him and start all over. This was one serious cookie connoisseur. I am not sure what else made an impression on him, but I know he will remember that I loved him enough to make cookies for him.
I am reminded of David after his small army defeated the Amalekites. Not all of his men were as righteous as he. Several “wicked men and base fellows” did not want to share the spoils with the men who had stayed at camp, guarding their belongings. David said, You shall not do so, my brothers, with that which Jehovah has given us…the share of him who goes down to the battle shall be the same as he who tarried by the baggage; they shall share alike, and it was from that day forward a statute and ordinance in Israel. 1 Sam 30:23-25. David understood the value of those who did the behind-the-scenes work, the jobs others considered less important, and which seldom received glory or recognition.
Think about Dorcas. Stephen, the deacon and great preacher, had been killed not long before. James the apostle, a cousin of Jesus himself, would be next. But who did Peter raise from the dead? Not the powerful speakers who performed miracles, but a widow who made clothes for the poor, Acts 9:36-42. Surely God was saying that what we consider small and unimportant tasks are actually some of the greatest of all.
Never underestimate the importance of “baking cookies.”
For whosoever shall give you a cup of water to drink because you are Christ’s, truly I say to you, he shall not lose his reward, Mark 9:41.
Dene Ward
One of the things I decided to do as a homemaker was to keep a cookie jar filled with homemade cookies, and for the most part I have. Chewy oatmeal raisin, spicy gingersnaps, crumbly peanut butter, sparkly snickerdoodles, decadent triple chocolate, wonderful almond crunch cookies that always surprise people and steal the show, and all those variations of the All-American chocolate chip: Toll House, Neimann Marcus, peanut butter chocolate chip, double chocolate chip, oatmeal chocolate chip, and death by chocolate chocolate chip. My boys would come home from their friends’ houses talking about how deprived they were—all they had were Oreos.
My younger son Nathan was especially fond of cookies. As a toddler, he would pull up a chair to stand in so he could “help” me make cookies—help that usually involved tasting the dough to make sure it was good, and then “cleaning” the beaters. When he was in high school, I bought him a shirt that said, Life’s Greatest Questions: Who Am I? Where Did I Come From? Why Am I Here? WHERE ARE THE COOKIES?
Eventually that chubby, tow-headed, blue-eyed cherub became a long, lean man who went off to college. The first time he came home he brought a friend with him. He immediately led the buddy to the counter where the cookie jar always sat. “See? I told you there would be cookies.” Until he married I would bake cookies and save a dozen each week in a freezer bag until I had 4 or 5 kinds, then mail them to him and start all over. This was one serious cookie connoisseur. I am not sure what else made an impression on him, but I know he will remember that I loved him enough to make cookies for him.
I am reminded of David after his small army defeated the Amalekites. Not all of his men were as righteous as he. Several “wicked men and base fellows” did not want to share the spoils with the men who had stayed at camp, guarding their belongings. David said, You shall not do so, my brothers, with that which Jehovah has given us…the share of him who goes down to the battle shall be the same as he who tarried by the baggage; they shall share alike, and it was from that day forward a statute and ordinance in Israel. 1 Sam 30:23-25. David understood the value of those who did the behind-the-scenes work, the jobs others considered less important, and which seldom received glory or recognition.
Think about Dorcas. Stephen, the deacon and great preacher, had been killed not long before. James the apostle, a cousin of Jesus himself, would be next. But who did Peter raise from the dead? Not the powerful speakers who performed miracles, but a widow who made clothes for the poor, Acts 9:36-42. Surely God was saying that what we consider small and unimportant tasks are actually some of the greatest of all.
Never underestimate the importance of “baking cookies.”
For whosoever shall give you a cup of water to drink because you are Christ’s, truly I say to you, he shall not lose his reward, Mark 9:41.
Dene Ward
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