In my kitchen is an antique Hoosier cabinet, traditionally known as the “Kitchen Work Center” of the late 1800s to early 1930s. Years ago, a loving mother stood at this cabinet, preparing bread for her family day after day. Her daily kneading on the dough board left an indentation, a place where her hand turned and pushed the dough year after year. Her name was Mary. She was the mother of 9 children, 4 boys and 5 girls. This is Mary’s story.

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Chapter 1

Most days, Mary Russell awoke early, long before the sun came over the horizon. Before daylight, she would have breakfast ready and some of the chores marked off her list.

This morning, however, she pulled the heavy quilts over her nose, burying herself deeper into the one spot in the bed that offered warmth. If she moved her toe just one inch, the coldness was too much to bear.

An unexpected cold front sent temperatures plummeting from cool days and nights to below freezing. Over the last few days, the ground turned into a blanket of ice, and the branches of the tall pines were laden with frozen needles. In the deep south, this didn’t happen very often.

She heard the back door close. John, her husband, was out the door earlier than normal. Cold weather meant more chores for him, and the well-being of the farm animals required his constant attention.

The kitchen is the warmest place in their home. Standing next to the wood-burning stove will warm you quickly, some days too much! This morning however, no matter how appealing the heat of the stove seemed, Mary felt a strong temptation to stay snuggled beneath the covers, not wanting to leave the warmth of her bed!

But, with hungry mouths to feed and a long list of chores, including washday, she threw back the covers, shivering as her toes touched the cold wood floor.

Pouring icy water from the pitcher into the wash basin sitting on the dresser, she washed the sleep from her eyes.

Opening the wardrobe, she pulled a gray wool dress from the rack. The oldest but warmest of her three dresses, it was the practical choice for washday.

Lifting the heavy dress, Mary brushed her hand over the soft wool of the sleeves. The finer wool fabric she chose for the sleeves is not as irritating as the heavier wool of body of the dress. Wearing her cotton chemise next to her skin will keep her from itching from the wool fibers and add an extra layer of warmth.

Mary retrieved a pair of wool socks from the basket sitting on the floor and reached beneath the bed for her boots. The socks felt scratchy as they slid over her cold feet.

“It’s all about the warmth,” she reminded herself through chattering teeth while tugging on her worn-out boots, and lacing them around her ankles.

Using the toe of her boot to straighten the rug by the bed, she giggled, amused at what she saw. Mismatched socks! One gray sock, the other blue peaking over the top of her boots.

“Well, aren’t you just colorful today!” Wiggling her frozen toes, she considered whether to change or not.

Shrugging, she thought,”Oh well. I don’t care about my lack of fashion; at least I am comfortable!”

Mary giggled as she imagined the reaction of her neighbor, Isabel, to such poor taste in style.

Isabel Carter lived a few miles down the road. She and her husband, Douglas, own a cotton farm that has been in his family for three generations.

Prim and proper, Isabel wore the latest fashions, from feathered hats to fancy shoes. Her house was always in order with clean floors and not a speck of dust.

Each Sunday, Isabel marched her well-mannered children down the aisle of the church just as the preacher stepped up to the pulpit. Mary was sure she waited until the last minute so everyone could see her perfectly dressed children make a grand entrance.

With the thought of Isabel’s disapproval, Mary decided she would wear mismatched socks to church this Sunday just to see the look on Isabel’s face.

Grabbing her hair brush, she smoothed the tangles from her long chestnut-brown hair, then secured it on top of her head with combs given to her by her Irish grandmother.

Ready for the day, she hurried down the hallway to the warmth of the wood-burning stove in the kitchen.

Chapter 2

Stopping in the large front room, Mary opened the white lace curtains covering the windows. A bird flew into the bush outside the window and caught Mary’s attention as it grasped a berry in its beak, then took flight. Smiling at the little bird, she made her way into the kitchen and stood before the new Hoosier cabinet, a surprise her husband brought home from Birmingham late the evening before. It was his gift to her for their 20th wedding anniversary.

“So, you are not a dream!” she thought, as her heart filled with pride.

She could hardly wait to invite some of the ladies for a visit to see the new cabinet. That’s what Isabel did. Mary could still hear all the compliments her neighbor received about her latest purchase.

Mary’s kitchen counters with tins containing flour, sugar, cornmeal, and other baking supplies always looked cluttered. It was a chore to gather all the utensils and ingredients needed for baking. The new Hoosier would solve both of those problems. With a built-in flour bin, sifter, and ample storage space, now everything will be within easy reach.

Reaching for the apron hanging behind the door, Mary tied it around her waist.

It was barely daylight but as she glanced out the window, she could see John hammering a new board to the fence post.

“Twenty years,” she thought, “married to this wise and loving man, the perfect father to our children.” Through tough and challenging times, his faith always stood strong and unwavering.

Standing before the new Hoosier, Mary could smell the rich oak wood of the beautiful cabinet. Rubbing her hand over the porcelain countertop, she reached beneath for the glass knob to pull out the dough board. It was time to begin her daily routine of making bread.

She mixed flour and salt in the wooden bowl she had used since her early days as a young bride. In another bowl, she cracked fresh eggs she gathered the evening before. Setting the eggs aside, she dissolved sugar with potato water and creamy warm milk, stirring in a heaping spoon of lard that was warming on the wood-burning stove. After combining all the ingredients, she turned the soft dough onto the floured board, and the kneading began.

Jake, the old rooster sitting on top of the barn, crowed, announcing the beginning of day.

With the bread ready to go in the oven, Mary put on her coat, and walked out onto the porch to watch the sunrise. Taking a deep breath, she felt the cold air fill her lungs.

Looking out onto the pasture, the view was breathtaking! Morning was one of her favorite times of the day, when all is still, quiet, and the new day before her.

Mary remembered the first day she came here with John twenty years ago. She was only seventeen and a new bride when she stood on this very spot, looking out at the bare land. That day she was captivated by the scenery around her. Except for the house, it was a blank canvas where together they would build their life.

In the beginning, the home was a simple log structure; an open floor space with no inside walls or doors. No privacy. With John’s resourcefulness and skillful planning to add more rooms, it evolved over the years to the efficient home it is today.

Their 160-acres provided all the timber needed but the back-breaking work of cutting and hauling logs took time and patience.

Using a cross-cut saw, she and John felled the trees together, removed the limbs and stripped the bark off each trunk. Their two mules, Jack and Sassy, helped haul the logs to the home site.

Rough-sawn planks with square edges made the floor. Laid side by side and nailed in place, it took years of use before the floors had their beautiful smooth finish.

Each morning they loaded the wagon and headed to the logging site. It was a challenge to keep Justin, their inquisitive two-year-old, safe from falling trees and a occassional encounter with wild animals, including snakes and a few coyotes.

One morning during the hot summer, the day after cutting from a new section of the property, John, Mary, and little Justin awoke with a red rash and itching. It was a reaction to poison oak. For the next ten days, they treated the rash with cool baths in the lake and cold compresses made from crushed fresh cucumbers. The treatments made it bearable and helped with the itching until the rash disappeared.

Except for the few weeks when Nathan, their second child, was born, Mary worked sun up until sun down by John’s side.

Somehow, they all survived.

By the time the house was finished, Nathan was 11-months old. Mary was expecting again and Jonah, their third son, was born in the summer of 1885.

Six other children were born inside the walls of this strong, sturdy structure they call home.

Elizabeth, their oldest daughter, will soon be fourteen. John was wrestling with his emotions as he watched her growing interest in Jake, the 16-year old son of Jacob and Minnie Smith. The look passed between the two on Sunday morning as they arrived for church did not go unnoticed by a protective father.

Ruth, Jason, Abigail, Samuel, and Rachel were all born two years apart from 1890 through 1898.
The house is full. With so many differences in personalities, John and Mary are constantly learning and challenged in their role as parents in a changing world.

Mary watched a colt kicking his heels in the air as he ran beside his mother in the pasture. It would soon be weaning time. It tugged at her heart when a colt left the comfort and protection of its mother. Much like it would be with her own children. She knew the day would come, one by one.

The wind blew, and a blast of freezing air rolled across the porch. Mary felt a chill and pulled her heavy coat snug around her.

These moments of quietness never lasted long. From inside the house, she could hear the sound of laughter and giggling coming from the children’s bedrooms. Soon the kitchen would be busy with breakfast and packing school lunches. After breakfast, Ben, Jason, and Jonah, the oldest of the nine children, would help their father with the milking, then join their siblings at school.

Taking one last deep breath of the fresh air, Mary quietly slipped back into the kitchen, closing the door behind her.

Chapter 3

Removing the bread from the oven, Mary placed it on the table along with bacon, eggs, and grits. She poured creamy fresh milk for the children and hot fresh coffee for John and herself.

In the middle of the table, she set a jar of peach preserves and butter she had churned earlier in the week. The process of churning butter was time-consuming, but it was something she enjoyed!

John entered the back hallway, hanging his coat on the rack by the door. All the children, hungry and ready for breakfast, waited for their father to take his place at the head of the table.

With heads bowed, John gave thanks for the bounty of food and the life entrusted to his family. In his prayer, he asked God to help each of his family to never have a prideful heart but to always give thanks for His provision of daily needs.

Hearing his words about a prideful heart, Mary opened one eye, peeping to see if he was looking in her direction. “Was he making reference to me during his prayer?” she wondered.

She quickly closed her eyes before anyone noticed. If she ever caught one of the children with their eyes open during the prayer, it would be considered disrespectful and a reprimand would be in order.

Around the family table, the children learned about sharing, good manners, and participated in family conversations. They were never short on conversation but with nine children, the sharing and good manners were always a work in progress.

“Mama, he’s hogging the butter. He won’t pass it down to me.” Justin, the one who complained about most anything, was looking at his older brother who was loading his bread with huge scoops of butter.

“Jason, that is more butter than needed. Pass it to Justin. You have enough.” And with that, Jason grinned as he grabbed one more scoop before passing it on down the table. Jason could charm a rattlesnake.

Mary and John used every opportunity to teach their children the value of life is not in material things, but more about relationships. There were days Mary wondered what impact they were having. Time would pass too quickly; the children would be grown. They would move away, have their own families. The table, now surrounded with eleven hungry mouths, will one day be as it started 20 years ago with only two.

Glancing around the room, her eyes rested on the beautiful Hoosier. For her to have this gift, John sacrificed both his valuable time and money needed for so many other things.

“Was it worth it?” she wondered.

Since the day Isabel invited her for coffee and to see her new Hoosier, Mary spent a lot of time thinking about her neighbor’s beautiful cabinet. Coveting might be a better word.

Several times she mentioned to John about the things the Carters have which make their life so much easier. Was she being selfish when there were so many other needs and John worked hard providing basic needs for their family?

In teaching their children about material things, did this gift show something entirely different? Most everything they owned they made with their own hands. Food on the table came about from day after day of hard labor. All the clothing they wore was hand sewn by Mary.

She turned and looked at John. He gave her a look that he understood her thoughts. He nodded his head, confirming it was worth the sacrifice. It was a gift of love.

“Mama! Mama! Me milk!” Mary turned at the sound of Rachel, their little red-headed, spirited 4-year-old, calling her name. A glass was turned on its side, milk running over the edge of the table to the floor. The floor she scrubbed late the night before.

This was a normal day. Overall, a good day even though it included spilled milk and mismatched socks.

But was it also the beginning of a prideful heart?

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TO BE CONTINUED… (Be sure to SUBSCRIBE to follow Mary and her family. Subscribe by using the section on the right. You don’t want to miss the story of Jonah and the Out House!)

Each time I look at the indentation on the old Hoosier, it reminds me of the sacrifice made many years ago and a love between two people that spanned decades. Mary was the last to use the dough board, her hands are the only ones that left their mark and have stood the test of time.

For us, the Hoosier is a reminder of what is important in life. Mary knew it was not about the bread, but about the sacrifice of time and energy, loving others more than loving yourself.

As we introduced you to Mary and the Hoosier, we also are introducing you to her family, one story at a time. Throughout this series, you will learn more of everyday life of Mary and her family. You will hear stories of the children as they grow into adulthood, then stories of their children that bring us to the present day generation of her family.

You will watch Mary as she approaches her later years with grace and dignity. Mary will make you laugh, cry, and rethink how you look at ordinary things in life, things we take for granted. You will wonder how the nine children could get into so many situations, some funny, some intense and life threatening.

Mary spent countless days throughout the years in front of that Hoosier preparing bread for her family. She was 94 the last time she pushed her worn, wrinkled hands across the indention in the wood, kneading dough while smiling, recalling so many memories, voices that still echoed through her home.

Late one October evening in 1958, Mary closed her eyes one last time. She left a legacy of servanthood and stories that bring smiles, laughter and tears to generations that came after her. Follow with us on her journey through life!

Copyright. December 2014. Sandi Herron, Chelsea, Alabama.