MSNBC: Families Cutting Back Due to Rising Food Prices

Growing up in a ministry family, we didn’t have much extra. Mom made everything from scratch because it cost less. I never saw a Hamburger Helper package or a frozen entre in my entire childhood. As children we very rarely, if ever, had a candy bar from the checkout. We learned not to ask, and I remember not wanting to ask because I didn’t want Mom to feel bad having to say no. Treats were homemade. We never ate out at a sit down restaurant. It just didn’t happen. For lunches, my friends at school had cool things like Hostess Twinkies and Zingers (those always looked SO good to me), Doritoes, etc. I had exciting things like carrot sticks, apples, celery, and that sort of thing. We kids knew that my parents were tight on money and far from being traumatized by it, we grew up grateful for treats when we got them.

So when I read this article today from MSNBC about how moms are now shopping off lists, clipping coupons, checking out the lowest prices and leaving restaurants behind in favor of home cooking, I thought, “Well, now we’re starting to live normally as American families.” Somewhere in the 80’s and 90’s to the present, common sense ended and many American families started eating at restaurants and buying take out several times a week. Beginning at my generation, many women never even learned to make even a casserole from scratch. With working moms, a lot of women my age grew up eating out of the microwave. Now, a lot of women are going to wish they had learned to cook from scrach with grocery prices going through the roof.

It isn’t pleasant having to count pennies, but having to be more thrifty does come with compensations. The unsustainable go-go years economically in this country produced affluenza that was really catastrophic for our children. Having parents who can’t afford expensive video games, cell phones, iPods, and the like would actually be a blessing. Maybe family members will rediscover each other without all the excess stuff getting in the way. I read recently that even the jumbo size of many American homes today has served to cut family members off from each other. Everyone escapes to their own private space and gets lost in the world of technology. Smaller homes encourage interaction which can be sadly missing today. Fewer things can produce gratitude in children for what they do have. But that’s assuming that children have the proper worldview to be grateful. The spoiled children of today’s America may not be equipped to cope with a transition to less. It’s one thing to grow up from early on without a lot, but transitioning from having it all to having a whole lot less is a whole different matter.

There’s a pet spa and dog bakery just a half a mile from my home. A reader told me recently that it makes her sick when she sees gourmet cat food commercials when children go hungry in other parts of the world. The hedonistic excess is so obscene that something had to happen ultimately. No matter what happens, we can remember that God will provide our needs when our trust is in Him. Sometimes it can be scary looking at all that’s going on around us, but the Lord has promised never to leave us or forsake us, and that’s a great comfort.

One Long Week

Last week my husband and youngest son, Will, were gone out of town on a dad and son trip. Tom took the older boys on a special trip when they were about Will’s age, and they will never forget seeing the sites of World War II in England and France. Will and his dad didn’t go somewhere as exciting as Europe, thanks to the near disappearing dollar overseas right now, but they had a great deal of fun anyway. I did not have much fun, and it surprised me. What I initially had thought would be a great week of solitude and relaxation without having to make much in the way of meals, etc. did not turn out that way. I had to unexpectedly host three radio shows early in the week so I had to go to the office. At night things were way, way too quiet. With our daughter away at school out of state, and two young adult sons with their own schedules of work and college, I was totally alone most of the time. After over 20 years of being a mother, it was the first time I have really been alone like this for a week. In 2000 when Tom took Charlie and Sam on their trip, I had three others still at home who needed me. This week, I was not needed. Shades of things to come, I suppose. The evenings dragged. The house felt empty and my heart felt hollow. The piano was silent with Will gone. No trumpet practice could be heard from my husband’s basement lair where he keeps his chops in shape. I tried to read which I usually enjoy. Instead I found myself looking at the telephone and wondering if I dare call (again) and say good night to my men. I read a favorite Barbara Pym book, watched a documentary on the History Channel, watched some show on flipping houses on a budget, got annoyed at the screaming heads on the 24-hour news channels, and then looked at the clock. Only 8:00pm. That’s how my evenings went.

With no meals to plan and nobody needing anything from me, I felt restless and ill at ease. I thought I would enjoy all that time doing what I wanted, but I think I’ve forgotten how to do what “I want”, and besides, with nobody to talk with, that gets old pretty quickly. It was an interesting experience, staying alone for a week, just me.

My men came home Sunday afternoon. They drove from O’Hare in Chicago, and I was looking out the window when Tom’s car pulled up in front of the house. A big smile broke out on my face, and I thanked the Lord for their safe travel. It was so good to hear the piano thumping out a Bach fugue again, to see things left lying around as only 11-year-old boys can do, and to have my dear people to care for again. My son Charlie who lives on his own now came by for dinner tonight so we had six at the table. Thanks to my week of solitude, it was an extra delight to hear all the talking and laughing and joking around. A minor wrestling match actually broke out between Charlie and Will after dinner, and I said, rather mildly for me, “guys, take it elsewhere!” Houses are only homes when they’re lived in, and nothing makes a house feel more lived in then children both young and grown. I know that nests have to empty and mine is gradually getting that way. But I learned this week that for me, the real meaning in life isn’t being able to do what I want, but it’s found in serving others. Serving up some warm brownies to my loved ones tonight and seeing their enjoyment did my heart good. Be it ever so humble, there’s no place like a full home! Thank you, Lord, for family.

Hymns Forever!

At night sometimes I wake up and a hymn is running through my head. This morning I woke up with the words from a hymn text,

Alleluia, alleluia!
Glory be to God on high;
Alleluia! to the Savior
who has gained the victory;
Alleluia! to the Spirit,
fount of love and sanctity:
Alleluia, alleluia!
to the Triune Majesty.

What a wonderful way to begin the day. I find tremendous joy and comfort in the hymns and our family CD collection reflects that. The great hymns of the Western canon have been bathed in the blood, and tears and joy of centuries of believers in Jesus Christ. Much of the hymnody can be traced directly back to passages of Scripture that inspired the words in the first place. The snatch of hymn I had in my head this morning opens with the words of the angels who sang in joy at the birth of our Savior, “Glory be to God on High!”

We sing through the joyful times and we sing through the sad or troubling times. A troubled mind? I remember the song of the angel trio from Mendelssohn’s Elijah, lifted right from the pages of the Psalms.

“Lift thine eyes, o lift thine eyes,
To the mountains, whence cometh, whence cometh
Whence cometh help!…”

Christians have hymned their way through every manner of persecution and pestilence, tragedy and loss, joy and triumph. Their song is always focused on the Lord. I have put this ancient hymn to memory because it is not only a song of worship, but a confession of faith.

WE praise thee, O God, we acknowledge thee to be the Lord.
All the earth doth worship thee, the Father everlasting.
To thee all Angels cry aloud: the Heavens, and all the Powers therein.
To thee Cherubim and Seraphim continually do cry,
Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God of Sabbath;

Heaven and earth are full of the Majesty of thy Glory.
The glorious company of the Apostles praise thee.
The goodly fellowship of the Prophets praise thee.
The noble army of Martyrs praise thee.
The holy Church throughout all the world doth acknowledge thee;

The Father, of an infinite Majesty;
Thine honorable, true, and only Son;
Also the Holy Ghost, the Comforter.
Thou art the King of Glory, O Christ!
Thou art the everlasting Son of the Father.

When thou tookest upon thee to deliver man, thou didst not abhor the Virgin’s womb.
When thou hadst overcome the sharpness of death, thou didst open the Kingdom of
Heaven to all believers.
Thou sittest at the right hand of God in the Glory of the Father.
We believe that thou shalt come to be our Judge.
We therefore pray thee, help thy servants whom thou hast
redeemed with thy precious blood.

Make them to be numbered with thy Saints in glory everlasting.
O Lord, save thy people and bless thine heritage.
Govern them, and lift them up for ever.
Day by day we magnify thee;
And we worship thy Name, ever world without end.

Vouchsafe, O Lord, to keep us this day without sin.
O Lord, have mercy upon us: have mercy upon us.
O Lord, let thy mercy lighten upon us: as our trust is in thee.
O Lord, in thee have I trusted: let me never be confounded.

At our church we actually sing this hymn that dates back to the 4th Century when the heresy of Arianism was sweeping the church. This heresy taught that Christ was not eternally existent and that He was not of one substance with the Father. This song of fierce joy, sung by those greatly persecuted for the their faithfulness, confessed the true Christian faith and praised and worshiped God. Of such faithful confessions our great hymns consist. I have found a website where a retired organist just sits and plays the great hymns on his home organ. He plays both the grand hymns and also the comforting gospel songs that belong to all believers. At a time when the rich hymns have been largely discarded by pop culture Christianity, it is refreshing and delightful to remember the words of these great songs of the church. Hymns will always live on in the hearts of believers and some day, when we finally are all together before the throne of the Lamb, our hymn singing will continue without end. Here is what Scripture describes:

Then I looked and heard the voice of many angels, numbering thousands upon thousands, and ten thousand times ten thousand. They encircled the throne and the living creatures and the elders. In a loud voice they sang:

“Worthy is the Lamb, who was slain,
to receive power and wealth and wisdom and strength
and honor and glory and praise!”

Then I heard every creature in heaven and on earth and under the earth and on the sea, and all that is in them, singing:

“To him who sits on the throne and to the Lamb
be praise and honor and glory and power,
for ever and ever!”

–Revelation 5:11-13

Come to Calvary’s Holy Mountain

Come to Calvary’s holy mountain,
Sinners, ruined by the Fall;
Here a pure and healing fountain
Flows to you, to me, to all,
In a full, perpetual tide,
Opened when our Savior died.

Come in poverty and meanness,
Come defiled, without, within;
From infection and uncleanness,
From the leprosy of sin,
Wash your robes and make them white;
Ye shall walk with God in light.

Come in sorrow and contrition,
Wounded, impotent, and blind;
Here the guilty free remission,
Here the troubled peace, may find.
Health this fountain will restore;
He that drinks shall thirst no more.

He that drinks shall live forever;
‘Tis a soul-renewing flood.
God is faithful; God will never
Break His covenant of blood,
Signed when our Redeemer died,
Sealed when He was glorified.

A Little Blast From the Past

**Now the photos are resized. Click for full size.** I received these photographs from my son Sam the other day. His girlfriend Andrea (the one in the photo far left) and her sister Rachel dressed up like 19th century young ladies just for fun. I think they both make beautiful Victorians, don’t you? We’ve come a long way in female attire since those days to put it mildly.

It is difficult to imagine what it must have been like to dress the way that women did in the 19th century. Having to do housework, gardening, caring for babies, and cooking in all of the long dresses and petticoats and so forth seems very difficult. Dressing this way in summer heat without fans or air conditioning seems downright cruel. But at the same time, the clothes were so lovely to look at. As a girl, I liked to look feminine, and I would have been in my element in the 1800’s.

There isn’t much today to satisfy the feminine heart when it comes to clothes. The gruesome offerings in most stores are enough to turn a lot of us into Victorians. While I am glad to see a return to some longer hemlines this spring, am I alone in mourning the missing top halves of the dresses on offer today? Why must one half of a dress be missing? A few years ago, it was always the bottom half missing, now it’s the top. I’m going to start a campaign for WHOLE dresses one of these days. Material gives a designer scope. But because “sexy”, rather than “pretty”, is the look of the day, those halves keep going missing.

Clothing reflects the spirit of the times. Take a look, briefly, at the Junior section of most department stores today. Sexuality on parade is the only thing you can find. I recently looked at some photographs of my mother-in-law as a high school girl, and I marveled at how very different the look was for girls in the 15-18 range. Girls dress like prostitutes now by comparison, aided and abetted by their parents. Even when I was in high school in the early-mid 1980’s, there was a sleazy look in some shops for the MTV crowd, (MTV was brand new) but you could still find modest clothes in department stores for teens. I was one of the original preppies. Plaid skirts and wool pull-overs and button down oxfords were back in style in the Reagan era. Sperry Topsider shoes, knee socks, polo shirts and the like never got a second look in school. You could actually look like a school girl and not a woman of ill repute back in 1984 if you wanted to. Now there are no choices in the stores. For all the talk about diversity, there is none when it comes to clothing for women. I honestly don’t know where modest young girls go to find clothes. Do they shop online? Do they make their own clothes? I really feel sorry for Christian girls today who really want to look pretty and modest at the same time. It’s a wasteland out there.

Three cheers for young women like Andrea and Rachel who manage to look pretty and feminine even in our crazy, messed up culture. (And not just when they dress up like Victorians.)

Simple Things

I haven’t written much on this blog lately. A crush of things have been happening and keeping me extremely busy. But I have missed writing here. I find it restful. Today is a good day for recovery. The sun is shining today and it’s in the 40’s, which means it’s a virtual heat wave here in Wisconsin.

I could not resist opening some windows this afternoon and letting in the crisp fresh air while I cleaned house. My husband pitches in and helps me with the heavy stuff on Saturdays because I can’t lift very much due to the physical limitations I live with. Tom was whistling away while giving me a hand with vacuuming, and I was thinking about how the simplest things in life are usually the sweetest. We often take normal days for granted—the usual Saturday run to the grocery store, the house cleaning, the laundry. But those are my favorite times. Working in my kitchen, I am able to put out of my mind the heavy stuff in the news and in the world. The sound and fury out there never let up. But at home, for those moments of mundane living, all is truly well. There is the pleasant sound of my cuckoo clock in the next room with the Swiss music box that plays a tune each hour. There’s the voice of my son playing outside with his neighborhood buddies and getting very muddy, and the sunshine filling my kitchen with light as I work at the sink. Those are moments when you can pray, thanking God for the ability to do house work, for food to prepare for a hungry family, for clothes in the drier, for a comfortable home, and for all the many blessings he gives.

When I look back at my life, there were many times when I did not feel very blessed. In fact, difficult things continue to come and go in my life. A friend told me I should write a book about the things I have gone through. I’d rather not. I would rather focus on how God has always been with me, always sustained me, always sent encouragement when it was most needed, and how He has always provided. When we focus on the Lord and His greatness, and remember that life at its best here on earth is only temporary, we can keep going in faith. I’ve found that gratitude for the small things is a real help.

List the things you have to be grateful for today. I’m thankful for the Lord and the promise of eternity with Him. I’m thankful for each material and spiritual blessing God has given. I’m thankful for the Holy Scriptures where God reveals himself to us…The list could go on and on, and it should. Even though our country is in crisis, we continue to have SO much to be grateful for here in America. Stop and thank the Lord for something, even if it’s as simple as being able to read.

Know ye that the LORD he is God: it is he that hath made us, and not we ourselves; we are his people, and the sheep of his pasture. Enter into his gates with thanksgiving, and into his courts with praise: be thankful unto him, and bless his name.

For the LORD is good; his mercy is everlasting; and his truth endureth to all generations.

–Psalm 100:3-5

On Showing Love at Church

I want to share this article from a friend, Nicole Strickland. Somewhere near you at church, there may be someone who really needs to know that you care about them. Churches are not supposed to be sermon clubs where we walk in for an hour or so and then hustle out the door as quickly as possible. Some people have perfected the ability to avoid eye contact at church so they won’t be obligated to stop and talk. Sometimes, we would all probably admit, we do the same thing. This piece says it well. Look around you and find someone to speak with on Sunday. Show the love of Christ.

Why do churchgoers rush out the door after church? Why don’t we stay and talk to one another? Are we so caught up in our personal universes that we can only spare a meager hour for God and His people? What makes us so uncomfortable in the House of the Lord?

In the culture today, finding a sense of community and belonging can be very difficult, and the majority of Americans somehow don’t expect to find it in church. I find the widespread lack of sympathy disturbing. Does anyone else?

Make no mistake: the primary purpose of a church is to worship and serve the Living God. However, an indispensible component of serving God is treating our fellow human beings well. In the words of Christ: “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto Me.” As believers, we are the body of Christ, made of disparate parts, but designed to function harmoniously. God has no patience with elitism and what James calls the “respect of persons.” The value of a person cannot be based on his financial or social standing. The local church ought to be a place where anyone can find sympathy, compassion, and life-giving counsel based on the Word of God.

Selfishly, we often seek not so much to understand as to be understood. As humans, we feel our own need for sympathy so deeply, but others’ rather slightly. Loving others means being aware of the needs of people around us, and attempting to serve those needs whether we feel like it or not. It means being a giver and not a taker—characteristics of a mature individual. Are we up to the challenge?

Do you think strangers likely feel welcomed at your church? Within the circle of believers, there should be time set aside to consider how to offer hospitality and fellowship not only to one another, but to strangers in our midst. Hebrews 4 reminds us, “Be not forgetful to entertain strangers, for some have entertained angels unaware.” In the book of the Acts of the Apostles, the Bible says that “God added daily to the church such as should be saved.” We, as believers, are called laborers together with God in the harvest field of souls; we can have a part in God’s work by reaching out to visitors who come seeking.

On a slightly deviant, yet related point, I think church leaders should be aware that age segregation has succeeded in depriving us of some of the richest expressions of human culture. We miss so much when we avoid the cross-pollination of age groups: the seasoned perspective and unique wisdom of seniors, the brightness and enthusiasm of youth. Successfully integrating people of all ages greatly enhances the socialization experience for everyone.

Certainly, the future of the Christian church depends on our ability to reach out in love, both to fellow Christians (our brothers and sisters) and to strangers and seekers. We not only represent Christ to the world, we are called to be Christ’s Body and function as His hands, His arms, His feet. We, therefore, must love as He loved.

–Nicole Strickland

Summer Thoughts

The winter here in Wisconsin has been long and hard. We’ve had 70-some inches of snow this year and long periods of bitter cold. Last night we escaped a predicted snowstorm, and I felt guilty for being glad that the front went south to the Chicago area instead. The hibernation phase of life in the North is getting old. The fireside has lost its charm, and the dirty piles of snow outside are just plain depressing. I found my mind wandering to summer time today and some of those memories have been getting me through yet another cold day here in Wisconsin.

As a child, summer began with the last day of school chapel service. Old Mount Olive’s church windows were always open for the last service of the year and the chancel sometimes had a fan going for the presiding pastor. Outside those open windows, the summer beckoned. If we sang the last hymn a trifle faster than we should have, we could be forgiven for our haste. Two blocks home from school, and freedom was ours. I remember those lazy summer afternoons of lying with a book on the old couch in our enclosed porch with the large French-style windows that let in the breeze. We had no air conditioning so the drone of the fan always brings back memories of summer days at home. There were the bike rides to Ray’s corner grocery for penny candy. I think we drove the owner’s wife mad by changing our minds so many times at the candy counter. For .25 cents, you could get 25 pieces of candy in a little brown bag, and the decision to get 10 Jolly Ranchers and 15 Tootsie Rolls or vice versa was a big deal. Cheeks bulging, my sister and I would bike home. I liked a sedate stroll around the block on my roller skates, but Lisa had an entire army comprised of neighborhood boys. She had the gift of, er, leadership, and woe to the little boys who got out of line in Lisa’s Army. She even had initiation rights that involved taking a loyalty vow underneath an American flag held over the head of the latest recruit by two veteran army privates. I recall that the army met its match when Mom put the kibosh on things. Mrs. Finley lived at the top of our block and her crab apples were being used as missiles against enemy forces. Lisa’s Army met its Waterloo.

My best summer memories are of camping up in the boundary waters of Minnesota. I can still see the sun filtering through the birch leaves early in the morning, and smell the pine needles outside the tent door. Is there anything quite as delectable as the aroma of bacon frying on the open air first thing in the morning? Mom would always have something good cooking on the kerosene stove. The things to do and pretend on the islands were endless. My sister and I would cut patches of moss out of the forest floor and make believe it was carpet for the little houses we fashioned with twigs. We picked wild blueberries on the islands, and our faces and hands would be stained with the juice. We were barefoot and grubby and we were free. At dusk, Lake Vermillion would grow still, its surface like glass, and the loons would send their cries echoing through the little bays scattered throughout the islands. I always thought their cries had a lonely sound. Sometimes a mother duck would come paddling by with her babies out on the glassy water. The ducklings resembled little fluff balls floating along behind mama. It would have been unthinkable to disturb these little duck families quietly paddling home for the night.

My Grandpa and Grandma Eliason lived a few miles from Lake Vermillion, and the fields near their home were filled with wild rasberries. Nothing in the world tasted better to me than those wild berries washed by the rain and the dew. My brother, sister and I would always check the progress of the Three Trees. Those were three pine trees our dad planted when he was a boy. He planted them right on the border of my grandparents’ 40 acres. He said that at the time he never realized he’d have three children. So we each had a tree of our own, planted years before our dad knew we would exist. Those pine trees are now towering giants.

It’s still cold outside and now it’s dark, too. But before long, the wind will feel milder, and the snow will melt, the tulips and daffs will be up, and after a while, summer will be here with all its joys. It’s something to look forward to, especially this year.

Quote to Remember

“There is no such thing as “chance”, “luck”, or “accident” in the Christian’s journey through this world. All is arranged and appointed by God. And all things are ‘working together’ for the believer’s good. Let us seek to have an abiding sense of God’s hand in all that befalls us, if we profess to be believers in Jesus Christ. Let us strive to realize that a Father’s hand is measuring out our daily portion, and that our steps are ordered by Him. A daily practical faith of this kind, is one grand secret of happiness, and a mighty antidote against murmuring and discontent. We should try to feel in the day of trial and disappointment that all is right and all is well done. We should try to feel on the bed of sickness, that there must be a ‘needs be.’ We should say to ourselves ‘God could keep away from me these things if He thought fit. But he does not do so, and therefore they must be for my advantage. I will lie still, and bear them patiently. I have an everlasting covenant ordered in all things and sure. What pleases God shall please me.’”

–J.C. Ryle

Unexpected Riches!

Readers, I have to tell you about a gift I received today that has thrilled me to the core. Two days ago, I received a note card from a reader in England who asked me if I had received “the book of poems” in the mail? I was somewhat panicked, thinking that the package had never gotten to me, and I would have to tell him that it hadn’t come. I was mulling over the problem when a package arrived for me today. I didn’t go out to get the mail like usual this afternoon, and it was already evening when my husband brought in a white parcel with the words Royal Mail on a sticker in the corner. I opened it up, and I could not believe what I held. The friend in England had sent me his copy of the book, The Ministry of Song, by Frances Ridley Havergal. Not just any copy, mind you. It was the personal copy of Frances herself, given to her beloved sister, Maria. In her own beautiful handwriting on the inside cover she wrote, “Maria V.G. Havergal with the love of her sister Frances Ridley Havergal, May 27, 1869. Underneath the date she wrote, “Thus will I bless Thee while I live”.

I held the book for a long time and thought about that hand that had written those lines so long ago. To think that she had held this same book in her hand, too. It was the same hand that had written that beautiful consecration hymn, Take My Life and Let it Be, and Like a River Glorious, I am Trusting Thee, Lord Jesus, and Who Is On the Lord’s Side? I thought about how the love of Jesus had flowed through the life of that sister in Christ, and I thought about how I wish I could also be like that. I want to share something from the book to encourage you tonight.

Yes! He knows the way is dreary,
Knows the weakness of our frame,
Knows that hand and heart are weary;
He, “in all points,” felt the same.
He is near to help and bless;
Be not weary, onward press.

Look to Him who once was willing
All His glory to resign,
That, for Thee the law fulfilling,
All His merit might be thine.
Strive to follow day by day
Where His footsteps mark the way.

Look to Him, the Lord of Glory,
Tasting death to win thy life;
Gazing on “that wondrous story,”
Canst thou falter in the strife?
Is it not new life to know
That the Lord hath loved thee so?

Look to Him who ever liveth,
Interceding for His own;
Seek, yea, claim the grace He giveth
Freely from His priestly throne.
Will He not thy strength renew
With His Spirit’s quickening dew?

Look to Him, and faith shall brighten
Hope shall soar, and love shall burn;
Peace once more thy heart shall lighten:
Rise! He calleth thee, return!
Be not weary on thy way,
Jesus is thy strength and stay.

–Frances Ridley Havergal

I hope that Mr. J. Eyers doesn’t mind me thanking him publicly, but his gift means more than he could know. Frances R. Havergal’s greatest legacy was her unfailing love for Jesus Christ. May I learn from her example. I will treasure this book always.