Looking past me and into the distance, as though reading from a non-existent cue card, my friend uttered a phrase common to my aging ears, “Life used to be simpler”.
I get it. Looking back, I agree life was not as complex as it is today. Nor was it as busy. I don’t believe too many would argue that the overall pace of living has exponentially increased since the 1950’s. But to say life was ‘simpler’ is open for discussion. Life may not have been as complex perhaps…but not simpler.
I’m thinking of our old fashion farm kitchen…before microwaves and Teflon coating…before ready-made frozen foods and processed ingredients. Specifically, I’m thinking of the hours my mother would spend preparing a Sunday meal. She’d begin on Saturday peeling potatoes and snapping green beans. Clouded in flour dust and apple peelings she’d cock and load several pie tins, then using her paring knife, she’d pierce artistic breathing patterns into dough covers before sliding them into the Kelvinator to await tomorrow’s preheated oven.
But what I remember most about those ‘simpler’ days hearkens back to a form of barbarianism far removed from today’s contemporary kitchens.
Late on Saturday, as the sun struggled to win its battle over the western horizon, Mom would wrestle a pile of dirty pots and pans into the huge porcelain farmhouse sink as she prepared for battle. Cinching her apron tightly to her waist, she’d screw up her courage and grab the ominous cleaver she referred to as ‘the terminator’. With blood in her eye, she’d march across the back porch and into the day’s afterglow. Thrusting her free hand against the screen door with the veracity of a stiff arming fullback, the return spring squealing in protest stretching beyond the point of no return, the door would fling wide open to the passing warrior.
Even as a youngster, playing in the back yard, I knew not to ask stupid questions as she marched past, equipped for battle. I knew by the glint of light flashing from the cleaver we were going to have skillet fried chicken the next day.
Fully focused on her target, she’d bark the order over her shoulder, “Ronnie, come help me catch a chicken!” This was not a time to dilly dally, it was time for immediate action. There was killing in the air and I wanted to make sure I was a survivor!
Guarding the henhouse door, she’d point toward tomorrow’s dinner. I needed no further instruction, as a battle hardened farm boy, I knew my mission. Creep up on the old hen just as she was settling down for the evening and snatch her by the leg. I’d hand off my catch to ‘Ma the Butcher’ and look away—for the violence that followed was of such gruesome detail that today’s overly sensitive generation would faint to hear! The dirty deed done, the corpse was far from being ready for the tomorrow’s dinner table. The bird still must be scalded and plucked and cleaned and prepared for frying.
If you think life was simpler, you may have forgotten the intense labor it took to simply provide a home cooked meal before there were pre-packaged foods. I haven’t forgotten. Just the other day, I said to Marilyn, “I’d like to prepare some good ole’ fried chicken…like our mom’s did. You know, the greasy kind that’s dipped in flour and cornmeal and fried for hours in an iron skillet!” My voice went up at the end of the sentence as though to imply, “Won’t that be fun?” She lowered her gaze and through a furrowed brow asked, “Who’s doing the frying?” I assured her I would if she would walk me through it.
It was miserable! I couldn’t keep the skin on the chicken while it fried…one side was blackened and the other side was…well, not appetizing. I developed a renewed admiration for Colonel Sanders. I was also reminded as never before, there was nothing simple about frying chicken.
Life wasn’t simple then, and it’s certainly isn’t simple today. But aren’t we grateful for a God who has our back? Listen again to Jesus’ words here as he speaks about the many complexities of life.
“Give your entire attention to what God is doing right now, and don’t get worked up about what may or may not happen tomorrow. God will help you deal with whatever hard things come up when the time comes.” Matthew 6:34
I hope this encourages you to keep it simple…and be blessed, RG
Read Ron’s column, Simple Faith, each Saturday on the Faith Page (page 3) of the Lancaster Eagle Gazette, or visit www.lancastereaglegazette.com.