One of my favorite Christmas memories is making kalkals with family at Christmastime
Kalkals (for those of you who may ask) are a humble snack but they pack in so many wonderful memories for me. A simple dough mixture is rolled out into small, cylindrical, shapes. One-inch-bits of dough are pinched off and carefully curled around a fork to get those fun little grooves in the dough (think fork marks on peanut butter cookies) before they are deep fried in oil. As the crunchy kalkals come out of the hot oil, they are quickly tossed in powdered sugar with just the right hint of cinnamon.
All this rolling and shaping takes time. It gives us time to sit together, savor hot cups of chai and chat, while we prep the dough for deep frying.
As a child, happiness was the sweet, warm aroma wafting through our home as Mom or Grandma made kalkals or other special snacks in the kitchen.
I didn’t realize just how much love and patience went into those times till a few years ago, when as an adult I experienced making kalkals with my nephew.
We had all gathered together in Aunty Mary’s home at Christmastime for the annual “making of kalkals.” This was the first time my little nephew was going to be a part of the whole experience, an initiation into a family tradition. Micah was about 4 years old at the time and eager to be a part of it all.
We gathered around the dining table laughing, talking while we sipped hot, sweet chai. Some of us settled in for what would be an hour of “rolling and curling.” Aunty Mary and her sister Cecelia began heating up the oil in the kitchen. A big ball of dough in a big stainless steel bowl was brought out and placed in the middle of the table, within everybody’s reach.
As Aunty Mary began giving instructions (specifically for Micah’s benefit), an unexpected thing happened. As quick as lightening, Micah jumped up on a chair, and reached into the bowl. Faster than anyone could say “kalkals,” he grabbed the dough and was off in a flash. His little arms could barely hold the big ball of dough and it began to sag dangerously towards the floor. He held it as best as he could, clasped it tightly against his chest and gleefully ran around the room. It took us a moment to realize what had just happened. Snapping ourselves out of the “chai coma” we were in, we jumped out of our comfortable positions and chased him through the house, trying to catch him before the dough completely spilled out of his arms. But the little monkey managed to keep us all running for a while before somebody cornered him, and the dough was successfully saved.
Breathless, laughing hysterically, we brought the dough back to the dining table. Somebody put it back in the big stainless steel bowl. This was a first. None of us had ever experienced runaway-kalkal-dough before! Still laughing, we settled back into our positions around the table, reached into the bowl and began making kalkals.
Those were the best kalkals we ever made!
That experience helped me understand further what it means to be in “relationship” with my Creator. He is truly my Father. He treats me with much love and patience just as a good and perfect father would.
Why does a perfect God chose to engage us in his work when he can get things done by himself? When he could get it done perfectly! And yet, he includes us, allows us to participate with him. Messy as we are, messy as our work is…
As my friend Paige McCaleb recently put it, “God’s great love for us allows for eggshells in the cookie dough as he invites us to make cookies with him in the kitchen.” He invites us to learn from him and work with him. The cookies (or kalkals) may not be perfect. He delights in our company. He delights in teaching us. He delights in allowing us to work with him.
I’m learning what it means to pause, to savor time spent together, to find joy in the journey…
~shini abraham, ©2014, duco divina – contemplative doodling
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