I am a queen and my kitchen is my palace. I cannot think of any other work I would rather do than cook for my family.

What is more rewarding than watching the magic of yeast as my bread rises or the marvel and power of baking soda resulting in a beautiful, fluffy cake? Who can beat the smell of freshly baked cinnamon rolls or bread hot from the oven? What is a greater pleasure than beckoning your husband and children into your warm kitchen on a cold, snowy day, with the aroma of apple pies baking and potatoes being made into crisp French fries?

And then comes summer with all its delights and joys. Nothing is more satisfying than gathering a meal straight from the garden. Those first peas not big enough to pick, yet too tempting to leave. Small carrots so young and tender that they have still not developed the deep color of orange, yet so necessary to add to my handful of peas. Wee potatoes cooked with their peelings - my husband's favorite dish. The highlight of the season is that first meal of sweet corn cooked on the cob. Add to your menu a stuffed fryer with all its trimmings and you have a feast fit for a any king.

Over my kitchen sink hangs the motto my older sister gave me before I learned the joy of washing dishes.

Thank God for dirty dishes.
They have a tale to tell.
While other folks go hungry,
We're eating very well.
With health and home and happiness
We shouldn't want to fuss.
For by the stack of evidence
God's very good to us.

Who can express the joy of canning? How fun it is to gather all the different kinds of vegetables needed to can soup! Then when sweet corn canning time comes, we bring it in by the wheelbarrow load and dump it under the big maple. Brushing and cutting off the corn is something the whole family can help with.

In the fall there is the wonderful smell of tomatoes boiling down to catsup. How satisfying to carry load after load of cans down to the basement, filling shelf after shelf.

The most talented artist could not paint a more attractive picture. My heart fills with gratitude as I stand in awe of the beauty the contrasting colors make. Yellow sweet corn, red beets, raspberries, plums. Three different shades of green for pickles, beans, and peas. Blue for grapes and blueberries. Peaches, pears and strawberries add to the colorful array. Mine is the privilege not only of beholding, but I may enjoy the taste of any jar I wish.

My friend at the end of our lane has a kitchen twice the size of mine, but it is not her palace. She enters it only out of duty. She does not feel like a queen when she bakes and cooks for her family. She complains because her family devours the food in half the time it takes for her to prepare it. Washing dishes to her is a very distasteful job. She shakes the water from her hands as soon as she is finished and runs for freedom. She was not brought up to enjoy gardening, so she also misses out on the joy of canning. Her shelves in the basement stand empty.

My first impulse is one of scorn. Why is my friend too lazy to enjoy the great things of life? But then my feelings turn to pity as I realize I would be no different than she is if I had not grown up in the home I did. We were not taught so much by word as by example of the true joys of life.

And so, as I go about my daily duties—cooking, baking, cleaning, and canning—I am so thankful for everything my mother taught me. Because of this, I must not be a slave in my kitchen, but a happy queen in a wonderful palace!

From Family Life magazine, June 2005, Pathway Publishers. © M. Luthy. Used by permission.

Photo by Levi Szekeres.