A Christmas memory of mom

Editor’s note: Annette Jesh, 76, a retired nurse and member both of St. Vincent de Paul in Brooklyn Park and of a Catholic faith community nurse committee in the Twin Cities, shares this Christmas memory of her mother, Leona Marie Kuhlmann Behnen, 1909 to 1994:

My mom’s Fostoria Crystal candy dish, which I inherited, was received by my mom and dad more than 80 years ago, 11-25-1939, as a wedding gift.

When I was young, through my high school memories, before I left to go to college, I remember mom making her famous fudge. After all her other Christmas preparation was finished. I was her prep chef. I cracked walnuts and broke them into pieces, readying them for the moment the fudge was mixed and ready to be beaten.

By hand, by mom, with a wooden spoon, sitting on the blue kitchen chair, with the silver metal frame, at the edge of the kitchen so she could see the TV in the living room, while she worked. The melting of the butter and chocolate, the mixing with the sugar and the Carnation canned milk, karo syrup and vanilla, boiling to 235 degrees or soft ball stage, testing in cold water and then beating it until she could “turn it out in a buttered pan,” and letting it set till firm enough to cut.

I would watch her, and it took a long time to beat by hand. I would ask, “Is it ready?” “Not yet Annette.”

I never knew how she decided, at the perfect time, “that it was ready.” Then, on Christmas afternoon, she would cut it and put pieces in the crystal candy jar. The neighbors would come over to see our tree and have a short Christmas visit. The kids all went in the basement to play with my brother’s Lionel train set. Everyone was offered a piece of Leona’s fudge. Our family waited until everyone had a piece before we were able to have one. There was always enough! It was the best fudge I ever had. And everyone said that. One piece each Christmas for many years. Waited for, longed for, and enjoyed like crazy. One piece each Christmas!

My mom had a gift of hospitality. She made the best fudge. She let us lick the spoon and bowl. Just a foreshadowing of the wonderful real thing to come the next day! She waited until everyone had a piece before she had any. She was selfless. I have taken that recipe out each year. Never made the fudge. Never thought I could do it as well as my mom! But the memory of her making it and the love she put into that little glass bowl for others is the better memory than the taste of the fudge. Her faith, her light was strong. I absorbed it. She glowed in God’s light. I knew her love.

That is how strong God the Father of lights is for us. To have a memory created, to have that memory mean love. We prayed for God’s strength in our weakness. My mom was a good cook. I always said I did not like to cook. Because my mom was the best. Shining our light from weakness into strength is the grace that God, Jesus, gives us!

I may just try to make that fudge this year! How can I know if I can make it if I don’t try? Trying is not failing. There is enough of God’s light. From notes shared by another, “A light that dims itself to match the darkness around does no good at all. Jesus wants His followers to shine brightly as beacons of hope and grace to the darkness in the world.” There is enough light for all of us to shine. There is not a perfect time. Just now. Amen and Happy Advent and Merry Christmas.