We had breakfast in the mountains Saturday morning. We packed our chairs, and the Coleman stove, and the little cook table, the night before. We rose at an indecent hour for a Saturday to bake a casserole and fill thermoses with coffee. Then we drove for over an hour as the sun began to lighten the sky to arrive at the picnic area. There we met my mother and brother, my sister and brother-in-law and niece and nephew. It was the whole Hee-Haw gang. Except for my baby boy who had to work that day. And my dad. It would have been his birthday and we were there in his honor.

By the time we were unloading our vehicles, it was daylight. The sky was a magnificent October blue, and mist was rising from slow moving pools along the edge of the creek. It was so cold that hovering over the little stove to cook bacon felt good in spite of the occasional pop of grease.

I’ve been coming to that picnic area my entire life. I’ve been there for fall breakfasts and spring lunches and summer afternoons wading in the chilly mountain water. I’ve been there as an infant, as a middle-aged woman with mostly grown children, and every stage in-between. I’ve been there with family groups both large and small.

And I’ve noticed something. The adults have always said a lot of the same things. The phrases I hear us using now are the same ones that I heard older family members say for years and years. Only now I understand what they really meant, what we really mean when we say those things.

We say, “everything is just so good,” when we finally get to eat. And it’s true of course – as a family we do a real good spread. But it’s more than just how delicious everything is. We really mean that the food represents memories. The cheese garlic grits that Mom hadn’t made in ages – Dad would have loved them, and also, he would have complained about how long it had been since she made them. The biscuits – Dad would have said she should make more. The hash brown casserole – Dad loved how much my boys love that casserole. Sharing a meal together, particularly a special meal like that, is all about memories. Everything is just so good.

We say, “isn’t it beautiful this morning?” but we mean thank you. Thank you, God, for the blessing of family. Thank you for creating these mountains. Thank you for giving us a place where your majesty and creativity are on glorious display. Thank you for letting it be a part of my life and my family’s life. The sights and sounds and smells of the mountains have blessed us always, and we have gathered here so many times. Isn’t it beautiful this morning?

We say, “we need to do this more often,” but we’re really talking to the younger generation. Keep doing this, we mean to say. Even if your life takes you far away, keep making time and giving effort to be with family. Remember God’s beauty that surrounds you, the beauty you were born into and the beauty wherever you are. Remember the line of family who came before, and the faith and love that they passed on to you. Remember, you need to do this more often.