Marge's rice pudding

I've just learned that another old friend of mine has recently passed away.  I don't remember how I first met Marjory Lindholm, an elderly lady who lived a few sections over from us in Prior Township.  But I do remember how she took me, a young mother newly moved out to rural Ortonville, under her wing nearly twenty years ago.  

She brought me into the local U of MN Homemakers Club, a group of ladies who shared a fondness for the art and science of keeping a home.  I was the youngest member by a good thirty years. The club met monthly, rotating between our homes, with the hostess providing a sweet snack for the group after club business was taken care of.  I always enjoyed hearing everyone's updates and stories over a piece of cake or pie.  That group of little old ladies were the only friends I had during those early years in western Minnesota.

The Ortonville Independent, June 2011

I have several vivid memories of Marge.  I remember once how delighted she was when I brought her a buttercup squash one fall, an extra from my garden.  She told me it was her favorite kind of squash, and I never doubted her.  Her warmth and happiness was so sincere.

I remember driving a sick friend of ours home after a doctor's visit.  Marge was waiting for us at her home, and helped her come inside and lay down on the couch.  As I watched, Marge knelt and placed her hands on her friend's arm, and softly yet fervently prayed for God to bring her back to health. 

At one of our Christmas meetings Marge served rice pudding.  My mother had made rice pudding many times, but she had always baked hers in the oven.  It was more of a rice custard than a pudding.  Marge's, however, was cooked on the stove top.  It was rich and creamy and spicy and tasted like heaven.

I asked for the recipe, and she was happy to print it out for me on a card.

Her obituary evens mentions her infamous rice pudding.  Along with her love of family, involvement in her community and her unwavering faith.  

I lost touch with her after our move, like I did with so many.  I have relied too heavily on the Book of Faces for staying connected with people, and those not on FB have slipped through the cracks.  I must do better.

It seems that Marge spent her final years surrounded and cherished by loved ones.  I very much hope so.