Sound familiar?

Growing up it was dinner time when the family gathered around the dining room table to eat well balanced meals. Not knowing there were children starving in Red China; we complained about the food that had been so lovingly prepared. “Green beans again?!” Mother was a registered nurse and knew a thing or two about what growing young children need to be healthy, wealthy, and wise. Dad knew how to get his belt off his waist and across our bottoms in a period of time so short it cannot be measured with the naked eye. Most of the time we had meat, potatoes, and a vegetable. Meat and potato was fine with me. It was that other stuff that got stuck in my throat or made me ask for a dog.
Mom made a ritual out of looking at the grocery ads in the newspaper. There were only three stores to choose from, but you can bet she got the best possible price on every item even if it meant we spent Saturday in the car going to each one. Milk from the IGA, and bread from Van de Kamps, then greens from Safeway. There wasn’t a whole lot of money for anything but the basics. She was a good cook, and an outstanding baker. We never suffered for homemade dessert – unless you broke the rule of not eating everything on your plate. (See why I whined for a dog?) To me cooked carrots were enough to gag a maggot – and I had never ever even put one in my mouth to know that. So the night we had cooked carrots, I didn’t have dessert. Menu planning was not that much rocket science as it was repetition. You could pretty much depend on certain meals to come around as frequently as the phases of the moon. Creamed hamburger on mashed potatoes and a side of peas. I dreaded this combination more than the monster under my bed and the boogeyman man in the downstairs broom closet. All meals were served with ice cold milk from the icebox. “Icebox” is a carry over term my parents used for the Frigidaire or as we say in today’s parlance the refrigerator. If you made out of your childhood without a helping or two of “icebox soup” – may the Lord bless you and keep you. Mom was lactose intolerant; so she ate cottage cheese and sometimes hard cheese. Dad was just intolerant. I think I can count the number of times we had soda on both hands and have a few fingers left over to whistle with. Soda, pop, coke – whatever you call it was a seldom tasted item at our house. I remember when Tab first came out. I had an Aunt who was very clever. Tab’s marketing slogan was “One calorie per can”. My Aunt so dry and tongue in cheek said “Yes, but who wants to eat the can?” We did get “fizzies” one particular summer, as I remember. Fizzies, for the uninformed, is like flavored alka-selzer. It was marketed for kids. We would get a cup or a glass, fill it with cold water, and drop the tablet into the cup. No, it really wasn’t all that tasty. But it was a fun thing to watch it foam and fizz. One of my friends even stuck an orange fizzie in his mouth and foamed like a rabid dog. Kids!
Today it is not unusual for kids to eat all their meals away from home and with or without one parent or the other. It is alarming, but not surprising.
There is so much Bible that supports why the family unit is and has been under Satanic attack. God established the family unit with Adam and Eve. He said they were to become one flesh. He told them to be fruitful and multiply. Now man is doing everything possible not to be fruitful while enjoying the one flesh side of things. Partial obedience that is man’s forté. Israel (the people of the 12 tribes) were given opportunity to hear the blessing and the cursings from the two mountains.
Well, I’m nowhere near done, but I’m running out of room. I don’t want to go back and selectively tear out the fabric of what I have written, so I will just need to continue this another time. For homework read Deuteronomy 27-28 and look for the family unit in there.

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About tnman

I was born, then I was born again.
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