She wore a simple scarf over her head, a soft floral apron around her waist, and the scent of sugar and warm bread seemed to follow her like a halo. My grandmother wasn’t loud. She wasn’t showy. But she was strong, quietly and steadily strong in the way only women who have survived heartbreak and hardship can be.

Every summer, I spent long, golden days at our family’s blueberry farm. My grandmother worked the fields every morning and moved to the berry shed after lunch, where she cleaned and weighed the berries with a precision and grace that made it look effortless. I would bring her ice water, intending to help, but more often I sat nearby, soaking in the stories she would tell while her hands worked. Stories of growing up, raising nine children after being widowed, of life and faith and survival. She was the kind of woman who gave you work ethic without saying a word about it. You just saw it. Felt it in your bones. Her love was not loud, but it was constant. She worked every summer on that farm until she was in her nineties. Not because she had to, but because it was part of her.

Those afternoons in the berry shed shaped me. I didn’t know it then, but her stories and her example were laying down roots in me. A deep appreciation for family, for mutual support, for showing up and doing what needs to be done. Not for applause. Not for recognition. Just because it’s what love does.

Looking back, I see the line of strong women behind me, my grandmother at the front of it. And beyond her, others who quietly taught me who I wanted to become. Bonnie, the children’s librarian who trusted me to lead story time. Angela, my youth leader, who offered me wisdom and a seat at her kitchen table during the years when I was trying to figure out who I was. Each of these women gave me something different, a love for books, a deepened faith, a belief in my voice. And though they’re no longer close, whether by distance or death, their impact remains. I carry them with me, like a handwritten recipe passed down through the generations.

Legacy isn’t always grand. Sometimes it’s quiet and consistent. It’s found in berry-stained hands, encouragement whispered across time, and work done faithfully, not for praise, but for love.

So today I’m asking:
Who has left a lasting legacy in your life?
Whose words and example are tucked into your soul, shaping the way you show up in the world?

🫐 My Childhood’s Blueberry Pie

What You Will Need:

Pastry

• 2 cups all-purpose flour
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 2/3 cup shortening
• 4 to 6 tablespoons cold water

Filling

• 3/4 cup sugar
• 1/2 cup all-purpose flour
• 6 cups fresh blueberries
• 1 tablespoon lemon juice

What You Will Need To Do:

Step 1
In a medium bowl, mix 2 cups all-purpose flour and 1 teaspoon salt. Cut in 2/3 cup shortening using a pastry blender, or by pulling 2 knives through the mixture in opposite directions, until the particles are the size of small peas. Sprinkle in cold water, 1 tablespoon at a time (up to 6 tablespoons), tossing with a fork until the dough is moistened and begins to come together. Add an extra teaspoon or two of water if needed. The dough should almost clean the side of the bowl.

Step 2
Gather the pastry into a ball. Divide in half and shape into 2 flattened rounds on a lightly floured surface. Wrap in plastic wrap and refrigerate for about 45 minutes, or until the dough is firm and cold but still pliable.

Grandma Nameniuk’s Tip: Cold dough makes flaky crust. Let it rest and don’t skip the chill even if you’re in a hurry.

Step 3
Preheat oven to 425°F. On a floured surface with a floured rolling pin, roll one round of dough into a circle about 2 inches larger than your upside-down 9-inch pie plate. Fold pastry into fourths and place it into the pie plate. Unfold and gently ease into place, pressing firmly against the bottom and sides.

Step 4
In a large bowl, mix 3/4 cup sugar, and 1/2 cup flour. Stir in 6 cups fresh blueberries and gently toss to coat. Spoon the blueberry mixture into the pastry-lined pie plate and sprinkle any remaining sugar mixture over the top. Drizzle with 1 tablespoon lemon juice.

Step 5
Roll out the second round of dough and place it over the filling. Cut a few small slits in the top crust for steam to escape. Seal the edges with a fork. Cover the crust edge with 2- to 3-inch strips of foil to prevent over-browning.

Step 6
Bake for 35 to 45 minutes, removing foil for the last 15 minutes of baking. The crust should be golden brown, and the juices should bubble through the slits in the top crust. Let the pie cool on a cooling rack for at least 2 hours before serving to allow the filling to set.

Gracefully yours,

Help keep the words flowing and the stories brewing.
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Reference
Niequist, S. (2024). Celebrate Every Day. Zondervan.
Styles, H. (2022). Matilda. On Harry’s House [Album]. Columbia Records.