Plain Wisdom

by Cindy Woodsmall

  When they lost their connection, my husband made a beeline for the closest MARTA station, hoping that Adam had understood his directions. When he arrived, he found Adam there, waiting.

  The next morning we called the numbers listed in that cell phone until we found someone who knew to whom the phone belonged. Moments later we heard from the owner, who was thrilled we’d found his phone. His employer had given it to him the day before, and he was worried what would happen when he told his boss he’d lost it.

  We returned the young man’s phone, immeasurably grateful for God’s provision.

  Miriam and I were talking about this incident one day, and she shared about Daniel and her being in the milking barn one summer afternoon. They had two young sons in the barn with them and a baby in the stroller. The children played quietly in a safe zone while Miriam and Daniel prepared the stalls and filled the troughs with feed. Before each milking time, some of the cows pressed against the gate, bumping the latch with their noses and licking it. They were hungry and full of milk and wanted inside!

  After bedding a stall, Miriam looked up to see that a cow had loosened the latch, and all thirty cows were running inside. Her three-year-old son, Mervin, had wandered into the direct line of the oncoming cows, and she was too far away to reach him before the cows did. She didn’t even have time to think a whole prayer, but she managed a cry to God for help.

  In a flash their collie bounded into the barn, got between Mervin and the cows, and started barking furiously. The cows stopped cold. They couldn’t back up because there were other cows behind them pushing them forward, but that gave Miriam the bit of time she needed to grab her little one and get out of the way.

  Appropriately, the dog’s name was Lassie.

  When Adam was caught in a difficult situation, God provided a cell phone, but when Mervin was in danger, God didn’t need modern technology in order to intervene.

  Everything from scraping a knee to a full-blown tragedy will happen on this fallen planet, but I believe that God is constantly at work on our behalf. The New International Version says in John 10:10, “The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.” In other words, in all circumstances He is on our side.

  WHEN LACK HITS HOME

  But my God shall supply all your need according to his riches in glory by Christ Jesus.

  —PHILIPPIANS 4:19

  From Cindy

  I stood in the backyard of our one-bedroom home, a toddler on my hip and a baby in my belly. The branches of our pecan trees were bare, and the threat of winter hung in the air.

  Our house, like the hundreds around it, had been built before the Depression, and if the walls could’ve talked, they would have told of the many families who’d gone through boom times and hard economic times. My husband and I had lived there less than five years, and we’d experienced both sides of American life—making ends meet and not.

  A few years earlier we’d both had good jobs, and we’d managed to put aside a little money. Before we were blessed with the birth of our first child, I left my job at the bank. We’d expected to be able to buy a three-bedroom home before he was born, but two weeks after I gave up my job, my husband was laid off from the steel plant. Three years and endless short-term jobs later, it was evident that this layoff was not temporary. The steel mills in America were struggling, and the United States was in a recession. The union was at an impasse with management. Benefits ran out. Our health insurance was canceled. Steady jobs, even at minimum wage, seemed impossible to find.

  We’d slowly succumbed to the economy’s circumstances and were living below the poverty level. The reality of our situation was never sharper than when I stood in the backyard that crisp November day. Bullying questions kept circling inside my head: What about next week’s food, the electric bill, the mortgage payment? And what about Christmas? Will the first Christmas our son is old enough to remember and understand be completely barren of gifts?

  We’d never had a credit card or a home-equity credit line, and even if we had been willing to take on the responsibility of getting one to help us make ends meet, we no longer qualified.

  I’d become a Christian while expecting our first child, and in the midst of this present misery, praying without ceasing came as easily and naturally as breathing. Trusting what God would do and when wasn’t nearly as effortless.

  As the weeks crept toward Christmas, I continued to hone my skills of making a dollar stretch. My husband worked whatever odd jobs he could find.

  Christmas Eve came, and we had a roof over our heads, wood in the wood stove, and a well-used artificial tree set up. We clung to hope, believing that times would surely get better. Tommy and I voiced to each other what we had to be thankful for. But after we tucked our son into bed on Christmas Eve, we sat in silence. Not in pools of despair, but in an ocean of hurt.

  I went to the cabinet above the refrigerator, pulled out a gift, and placed our son’s only present under the tree—a ten-inch plastic horse I’d bought at a yard sale for twenty-five cents. I was relieved that our son was too young to understand that there should be more for him when he woke on Christmas morn.

  As we sat in our living room watching the wealthy celebrate Christmas on television, we heard bells jingle. Someone outside yelled, “Ho, ho, ho. Merry Christmas.” I figured one of the neighbors must be playing Santa Claus, but then there was a loud knock on our front door.

  When I opened the door, freezing air whipped into our home. I stepped onto the front porch and looked around, but no one was there. Then I saw several out-of-place things: a handmade wooden rocking horse; a small box of brightly colored, gently used toys; and a brown bag containing groceries, including a canned ham, vegetables, and store-bought rolls.

  My heart soared, and my mind crowded with so many thoughts I couldn’t settle on just one. Had someone left these items on the wrong doorstep? Then I noticed that our names were written on the grocery bag.

  In that moment strength poured into me, and I understood that poverty could not conquer love, smother hope, or hold us hostage forever. God was behind the scenes, working through the hearts and lives of those who carried love.

  That wasn’t our last penniless year. We had another really tough winter the following year. But then my husband received a job opportunity in another state. In the spring we moved to Georgia—our land of new beginnings.

  When my husband received his first paycheck from his new job, our grocery money instantly tripled. We hadn’t stepped into utopia. We still had to sell the house in Alabama and make up for every partially paid utility bill. My husband worked fourteen-hour days, but we were still so far behind that I feared we might not be able to give our children all they’d need in life.

  Still, I knew we didn’t get out of the last mess on our own. And we weren’t facing the future on our own either. Contentment demanded that we trust in the God who had provided and would continue to take care of us.

  From Miriam

  Standing inside the Christian Aid Ministries building with about ten women from my church, I put another pile of clean clothes on the long wooden table. Some of the women had spent days washing and drying the clothes.

  The ceiling fan overhead made rhythmic humming sounds as it circulated the air around us and we sorted used clothes. Others sewed on missing buttons and repaired an occasional hem or seam. We separated men’s from women’s clothes, boys’ from girls’, and toddlers’ from infants’. I especially enjoyed matching outfits for the children.

  At the end of the room, dozens of additional bags of freshly washed and dried clothing awaited our attention. These clothes were then placed in nylon bags to be shipped to poor countries such as Romania, Ukraine, Nicaragua, and Africa—all under the auspices of Christian Aid Ministries.

  As I worked, my mind wandered to what dear child might receive this outfit or that one, and even though I knew it was against the rules, I longed to slip a treat or surprise int
o the pockets in the hopes of cheering up some little boy or girl far away. It reminded me of a story I once read about a young mother doing missionary work in a very poor foreign country. Food and necessities were scarce among the natives as well as in her own home.

  One day a native woman knocked on the young mother’s door and asked for a bar of soap. Cleanliness was their only tool to fight diseases. The missionary feared for her family as her supply was low. She had just one bar left besides the thin sliver she was currently using, which would last only a few more days. And the next shipment wasn’t due for months.

  Desperately wanting to help, the missionary knew what she needed to do. Breathing a prayer heavenward, she gave away her last precious bar of soap. Seeing the look of pure joy on the lady’s face, she knew she had done the right thing.

  A few days later a shipment was delivered to their village, but soap was not among the supplies. However, on the next laundry day, when this missionary woman opened a new box of laundry detergent, she found a free bar of soap inside. Every box after that contained another precious bar of soap. Nothing less than a modern-day miracle.

  It’s like Elijah’s story in the Bible.

  When Elijah asked a widow for a piece of bread, she told him she had nothing baked and had only a handful of flour and a bit of oil left. She said to him, “I am gathering sticks to build a fire to bake the last of it, for myself and my son.”

  Elijah said, “Don’t be afraid. Go and do as you have said. Only make me a loaf from it and bring it to me.”

  She agreed to do so, even though she knew it was her last. Afterward, whenever the widow baked again, the barrel of flour and the cruse of oil miraculously refilled. She and her household ate for many days. (See 1 Kings 17:10–16.)

  The same God was looking out for both of these women, hundreds of years apart, and the same God is still watching over us and blessing us today.

  Our God of compassion and mercy loves a generous giver whose heart is in the right place. He promises to reward such people, saying they shall lack nothing (see Proverbs 28:27).

  LAUGHTER IN ODD PLACES

  GAMES, PUZZLES, AND PLAYTIME

  The Amish are known for being industrious, but they aren’t workaholics. The children are taught to work, but they are also taught to enjoy free time. Without television or electronic games to distract them, the Amish have a healthy respect for leisure time.

  Outdoor activities for children and youth include ice-skating, riding scooters, fishing, and playing hide-and-seek, baseball, volleyball, and horseshoes. The adults are free to join those activities whenever it suits them. There are no barriers against moms and dads playing.

  I’ve seen older children on horses, racing through the fields. Nothing like a little competitive racing to cause moms’ hearts to pound a little harder while the riders’ laughter echoes off the hills. The Amish don’t encourage competing, but a spirited effort is always good for laughs and good-natured teasing.

  Games are popular—checkers, the Game of Life, Candy Land, Booby Trap, Jenga, and dominoes. Although many card games are off limits since their roots are tied to gambling, the Amish enjoy playing Old Maid, Dutch Blitz, Uno, Phase 10, and Go Fish.

  They regularly have youth suppers where the adults provide a meeting place and a meal and the youth get together. In the summer, before the meal they might play volleyball, baseball, or horseshoes. In the winter, they stay indoors and play games or cards. If there’s a Ping-Pong table in the house, the youth will put that to good use. After the meal they’ll have a singing.

  Some Amish enjoy putting puzzles together. The whole family usually gathers around to help. If neighbors stop in, Englischer or Amish, they are often invited to join in. When the puzzle is done, it may be mounted, framed, and given away or sold.

  In the past the Amish didn’t go on vacations and rarely traveled far from home. Today they will typically leave home to help others in times of need, even if they have to hire a driver or take a train or both, and some are beginning to enjoy the American pastime of vacations and sightseeing. Niagara Falls is a particularly popular destination. While traveling, they visit friends of friends along the way.

  The Amish have an insatiable desire to enjoy life and each other, whether through work, games, or visiting. Here’s a recipe that’s sure to please any crowd.

  FUDGE-FILLED BARS

  3 cups oats

  1½ cups whole-wheat flour

  1 cup nuts

  1 cup brown sugar

  1 teaspoon baking soda

  ¾ teaspoon salt

  1 cup butter, melted

  Filling:

  2 tablespoons butter

  1½ cups M&M’S, divided

  1 can condensed milk

  Mix together oats, flour, nuts, brown sugar, baking soda, salt, and melted butter. Reserve 1½ cups of crumbs. Press remaining crumbs into a jelly-roll pan. Bake 10 minutes at 350 degrees.

  For the filling, melt the 2 tablespoons of butter over low heat, stir in 1 cup of M&M’S, and cook until melted. (Some coating will remain.) Remove from the heat, and stir in the condensed milk. Then spread over the baked layer, staying a ½″ away from the edges. Top with reserved crumbs and ½ cup of M&M’S; press together lightly. Bake until golden brown, about 20 minutes. Cool for approximately thirty minutes, and then cut into bars.

  IN A CELLAR OR UP A TREE

  It is better to trust in the LORD than to put confidence in man.

  —PSALM 118:8

  From Miriam

  Like passing plates of steaming meat and vegetables at the dinner table, we often pass stories around during mealtime. Since our oldest boys are married with homes of their own, we rarely have the whole family here for a meal, but when we do, it seems that the conversation is the main course.

  Recently I heard a story I hadn’t thought of in a while, and it reminded me that when children get bored, adults usually pay the price.

  My husband’s sister Martha and his cousin Ruth Ann were at their uncle Mannie’s for a week while their dads were in Virginia. The girls were around five years old and had run out of things to do. Ruth Ann said, “I know! Let’s peel potatoes!” Martha said, “I don’t know how,” but Ruth Ann agreed to show her. So they began peeling potatoes—a big bag of ’em—down in the cellar at an old sink Uncle Mannie had. Peelings piled thick and fast. The potatoes were quite small once they had the peelings off! They peeled a ten-gallon bucket (approximately fifty pounds of potatoes) and put the dear little things in clear plastic bags. When they showed the first bag full to Aunt Katie, she mumbled, “Uh-huh,” and went right on enjoying her after-dinner nap.

  Guess what they had for every meal the rest of the week? Potatoes, of course, that Aunt Katie didn’t have to peel!

  Bored children often get into mischief, but sometimes they simply want to learn how to do what the adults do. If we want to instill a love of work, we can’t wait until they’re truly capable of being helpful. That will likely be too late. Catch them while they’re still young and work looks exciting to them. Otherwise they’ll grow up to be couch potatoes.

  Aunt Katie would have benefited from this recipe that day.

  CRUMB-TOP POTATOES

  ⅓ cup butter

  3 or 4 large potatoes, cut in thin slices

  1½ cups sharp cheese, grated

  ¾ cup crushed cornflakes

  2 teaspoons salt

  1½ teaspoons paprika (optional)

  Melt the butter in a jelly-roll pan in a 375-degree oven. Add the potatoes and turn once in the butter. Mix the remaining ingredients, and sprinkle over the top. Bake 30 minutes or until the potatoes are soft. Delicious!

  From Cindy

  I was in the backyard on a beautiful late fall day, playing with my two young sons. The Georgia air was a little nippy but nothing a sweater didn’t fix.

  When we heard a cat meowing, we began looking for it on our acre of land in the middle of seventy-plus acres of pastures and woods. We finally discovered our own cat, Cha
rlie, up in a pine scrub tree that had no limbs close to the ground. Climbing it would be like trying to scale a slick pole, only with bark and ants.

  Charlie looked and sounded pitiful, and the kids were sure he wanted down. So I did what every good mother does: assured them the cat would be fine until their father got home.

  When Tommy arrived, looking as bedraggled and weary as the cat sounded, the boys led him to the tree while prattling frantically that he had to save Charlie. He studied the cat for a moment before assuring our boys that if the cat could climb up, he could climb down. So we went inside for supper.

  As the sun went down, a chill settled over the house, so we started our first fire of the season in our wood stove. Tommy checked on the cat one more time and even tried to bribe it with people food, but Charlie stayed put.

  When I woke the next morning, I went to the back door to call the cat. What I discovered was winter. A storm had come through, and the tree limbs drooped under a heavy load of ice. Charlie wasn’t waiting at the back door as I thought he would be. I walked outside and heard a hoarse-sounding meow from atop the scrub pine. I hurried back to the bedroom to tell my husband.

  In a flurry of activity, all four of us got dressed and rushed to the foot of the tree where Charlie was still perched, letting out his pitiful meow. My husband got a ladder out of the shed and leaned it against the frozen trunk.

  After Tommy climbed the ladder as high as he could, he’d reached the lowest limb of the pine. He extended himself toward where the cat crouched. I knew we had to get Charlie down, but if Tommy fell … I didn’t want to think about that.