Grandma's Church Window Cookies:A Funny Memory Full of Love

Growing up, my Grandmother would let me eat Stove Top stuffing for breakfast when I stayed the night at her house. I really loved that gop of seasoned bread. She would make it just the way I liked it, nice and mushy. It was an added bonus knowing my mother would be really mad if she knew Grandma had given it to me. Every child likes to feel like they have one up on their parents every now and then.

Grandma made the best pork chops ever, wonderful chocolate no-bake cookies and a variety of other tasty treats. Once she was making me some of her delicious, coveted buttered noodles, only to hand me the bowl and dash my dreams of yummy goodness. The noodles were swimming in milk. I knew right away it wasn't some lame attempt to cover up an absence of butter in the house because as I looked at my beloved noodles bobbing in the milk, I saw the little yellow bursts of butter exploding at the surface. Immediately I informed Grandma of this mistake. Her response? "You love milk in your noodles." Not wanting to hurt her feelings, I gently reminded her that POLLY, my sister, loved milk in her noodles, I however, did not. Immediately Gram looked hurt. The guilt of being such an ungrateful little brat washed over me. I ate the noodles and learned to keep my mouth shut when someone tried to do something nice, even if I didn't like it. I never asked for noodles again.

A few years later, Gram discovered a new cookie recipe. I never did find out exactly what all was in it, but the cookie appeared to have a chocolate outer ring encasing brightly colored marshmallows. This creative confection was then rolled in coconut and baked. She called them Church Window Cookies. Gram loved the bright colors and unique appearance of these cookies. Oh boy, I thought. The chocolate was a great idea, but I hated both marshmallows and coconut.And I do mean HATED them! When they were fresh out of the oven, Gram eagerly gave me a cookie, the excitement in her face gleaming as she just knew I would love this tasty, sweet creation she had made for us grand kids.

 I wanted to barf.

 As I put the cookie to my mouth, I said a silent prayer pleading for the strength to eat it without showing a look of thorough disgust that would betray my face of gratefulness. I will never forget that disgusting, spongy yet dried out, baked marshmallow taste, rolled in equally dried out coconut. My mouth ceased the production of any and all moisture as that horrific taste penetrated every taste bud.

Forcing a smile, I said "Oh, those are good. Thank you Grandma!" and I tore off out the front door, cookie in hand. There was a good sized crack between the porch and the front step. I stuffed that sucker in there so  fast I scratched my fingers. I never did figure out if there was ever any correlation between that cursed cookie and the ant problems at the front of the house.

Church Window Cookies became one of Grandmas treasured traditional cookies, especially at Christmas and Thanksgiving. Luckily, I learned quickly that the way to avoid them was to just blend into the crowd as the family gathered. Throwing in a "everything tastes really good, Gram!" was an additional assurance to avoid those horrific things.

When I was 18, I joined the Air Force. Grandma was kind enough to send care packages to help quell my homesickness. She would send lovely little cards with loving, encouraging words, a few dollars to buy something and little updates from home. At Christmas, among the gifts she sent was a cute little tin. Growing up in a family that loved tins, you just knew something home baked would be in there. Immediately I got excited as I thought about chocolate chip cookies, chocolate no-bake cookies, and maybe some homemade hard candy. I excitedly pulled of the lid, hearing that little "clang" pop, peeled back the wax paper and stared with mortification.....Church Window Cookies. Now don't get me wrong, she put the good ones in there, too, but thanks to the close quarters of the sealed tin, the taste of those Church Window Cookies had contaminated the entire contents. I tapped one of the "window panes" of the cookie. Geez, it was like a ceramic tile. That damn coconut had overpowered the oatmeal in the chocolate no-bakes and completely deconstructed all flavors of the chocolate chip cookies. And the smell....stupid Church Window Cookies.

As I dialed Gram's number and she answered the phone, I told her that the package had arrived. "Thank you for the cookies Gram, they are wonderful!" making sure I conveyed how much I appreciated her thoughtfulness. She asked if they had arrived okay or had they broken up? Seizing the opportunity to prevent any future waste of perfectly good cookies, I told her overall they were "pretty good, but a little crumbly from all the jostling." I followed with the suggestion that perhaps she could separate them and wrap them in small bundles next time. It worked! For the next 18 years or so, I received loving, edible, care packages from my thoughtful Grandmother. I did however make an error in judgement shortly after I married my husband. I revealed to Grams that he liked the Church Window Cookies. She doubled the amount sent.

As I sit here today and remember Gram's love for her family, excitement around the holidays, and her thoughtful support for those far away, something occurred to me about those Church Window Cookies. As much as I couldn't stand those cookies, they symbolize a special love. A love from a grandmother in her kind gesture of making them and a granddaughter's love by not hurting her feelings and showing sincere appreciation for her thoughtfulness. When you think about a Church Window, stained glass comes to mind. It's a beautiful thought, thinking of those cookies and making the comparison between the two. You cannot see through the glass but if you look at it in the beautiful bright light, it is bursting with vibrant, beautiful color, perhaps even a sun beam ray illuminating the room. This is how memories of my Grandmother make me feel, as I bask in the warm glowing memory of her love.