My mom, without a doubt, makes the world’s best rhubarb pie. I mean it’s not even close. The thing is just absolutely unreal, and no words I use could possibly do this pie justice. That’s how good it is. I love this pie. The funny thing here is that for the longest time, I wouldn’t even eat the pie. Well not all of it anyway.
My mom makes her rhubarb pie in the spring every year, that’s when the rhubarb grows in the backyard, as it has for as long as I’ve lived. Every year usually in the first week or two of May, when the rhubarb has gotten long enough, my mom would go out and pick some stalks. We’d cut off the leaves, clean the rhubarb and chop it up. We’d usually make at least a dozen or so pies. A couple for family, a couple for neighbors, and some for coworkers. Rhubarb pie time was always an event in the Stueck neighborhood.
As I became an adult, I would always look forward to getting my pie from mom, even if I wasn’t helping make them anymore. As I mentioned before, I wouldn’t eat all the pie. I’d have one piece and in the fridge it would go, and there it would sit. You see, I really liked the idea of having pie to come home to. The thought that I had pie at home made everything else in life that much better. Bad day at work? At least you’ve got pie at home… Car needs some repairs? At least you’ve got pie at home… You get the idea. Well eventually you have pie at home for long enough that the pie goes bad. No more pie, but it was good while it lasted right?
|The photo I sent my mom as |
proof of eating the pie.
The problem here is that I never got to enjoy the whole pie. My enjoyment, while it was nice to look forward to, was never fulfilled. I would have gotten so much more out of eating the pie, as it’s meant to be. Instead I was worried that there would be no more pie. There’s no shortage of rhubarb out there, there’s no reason to think I couldn’t ask my mom to bake another pie, or better yet, have her show me how to do it. But I didn’t do any of those things, I held on to one thing in fear of not having it again. What else am I hanging on to in life out of fear of it going away? What else am I not getting what I could out of it out of fear that it would be used up?
Shortly after sharing this pie theory with my mom, she showed up at my house with a pie and a request. “Eat the whole pie, enjoy the whole pie” I did, and it was fantastic. Obviously, I didn’t eat it all at once, but I enjoyed it, every day without fear of it running out or being gone. There will always be more pie in life, just like there will always be more of the important things, don’t hold on to something in hopes of enjoying it in the future, enjoy what you’ve got now. Mom will always make you another pie.