Twice now I have made peanut butter cookies with my younger grandson, Judah.  The first time he was quite young and the best he could do was add whatever I gave him to add.  This last time he was 8, and although he still had to stand on a stool, he was much more capable of "helping." 
            I already had the sugar in the bowl when he pulled up his stool.  I added the peanut butter to the new-fangled doodad that you use for semi-solid ingredients like shortening and peanut butter, that two part contraption where you pull the inside cylinder down, fill up the resulting measure, and then push out the peanut butter.  Judah managed to use the "plunger" quite easily, pushing out that two-cup blob of the main ingredient.  Then I took the tiny measuring glass, the one that measures two tablespoons.  I showed him how far to fill the vanilla, just "this much" under the 1 (tablespoon) mark, using my thumb and forefinger to indicate about an eighth inch.  He leaned over and very carefully filled the little glass a tiny bit then checking, then a bit more, then checking, until he got it just right, and then poured it in around the spinning beater that was busily creaming away the sugar and peanut butter.
            Then it was egg time.  I cracked the first egg just enough to get him started.  He took it and instead of gently pulling the two halves apart, he mashed with both thumbs against his fingers so hard they both flattened completely.  The egg splashed into the cookie dough.  Then he got down off his stool and, without being told to, took the shell to throw into the garbage.  I surreptitiously checked the batter for smithereens of eggshell.  Somehow, none had made it down into the bowl.  One more egg to go.  "Do you think you can crack it yourself?" I asked.  A very serious nod followed, so I handed him the egg and held my breath.  Let's just say, that boy does a number on eggs.  But once again, no shell pieces migrated to the batter, and the vast majority of the egg went into the mixer bowl, so we were okay.
            He really didn't want to handle the dough, making one-inch balls, so I did that myself, spacing them carefully on the parchment lined cookie sheet.  Then he got to work again, using a fork for the characteristic crisscross pattern of all peanut butter cookies which I had shown him how to make.  "It's a hashtag!" he cried, and was quite pleased with himself as he turned and mashed and turned and mashed two sheets worth of cookies.  Obviously it took a little longer to make cookies that day, but it was worth it.  He could hardly wait for them to cool enough to eat, and we had an experience we could share for our entire visit, every time one of us wanted a cookie.
            I think we in the church may have forgotten the patience a new convert takes.  Many of us are spoiled by having only the next generation of those "raised in the church" be baptized.  They are easy to deal with, already having been taught right from wrong at an early age, and sitting in Bible classes since before some of them could even say a word.  Of course most of them will know what to say, how to act, and how to tell true doctrine from the false.  But what about someone who is converted "off the street," so to speak?  I have heard of some churches that have a list of things they require a person to learn before they will baptize them.  Tell me, how much do you think the Philippian jailor knew before Paul baptized him "in the same hour of the night?"  If these "lists" are indeed necessary, God must have made the moon stand still.  No, Paul made sure that man knew enough to say, "I believe that Jesus Christ is the Son of God."
            God expects us to be patient with the newcomers.  Look at this passage:  But now you must put them all away: anger, wrath, malice, slander, and obscene talk from your mouth. Do not lie to one another, seeing that you have put off the old self with its practices and have put on the new self, which is being renewed in knowledge after the image of its creator (Col 3:8-10).  Did you catch that?  These were people who had already "put off the old self and put on the new self," in other words, Christians.  Yet they were still works in progress.  They may have been saints assembling every Sunday, but some of them were still working on anger, slander, lying, and any number of other things.  You know all those passages about being "longsuffering?"  We want to use that only when people have personality differences.  How about being longsuffering and patient as people learn to leave behind the culture of the world and become part of a brand new culture—the kingdom of God?  You don't become righteous overnight, turning it on and off like a light switch!
            So maybe those converts crack a few eggs to smithereens now and then.  After all, it takes a little finesse to crack eggs.  Instead of expecting chef-quality cooking from the get-go, how about just asking this question:  Are they still making cookies?  Are those cookies getting better and better with each try?  If they are, the finesse will come later.  Be patient, just like the Lord was, and probably still is, patient with you.
 
I therefore, a prisoner for the Lord, urge you to walk in a manner worthy of the calling to which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love (Eph 4:1-2).

The recipe for those cookies can be found on the recipe page on the left sidebar.
 
Dene Ward

  May 8 is National Coconut Cream Pie Day.  You may wonder what this has to do with a history post.  Well, in 1895, a French-owned company in what was then called Ceylon, off the southeastern tip of India, began shredding and drying coconut meat for easier shipping.  That same year in Philadelphia, a miller received a huge shipment of whole coconuts from a businessman in Cuba as partial payment for a substantial debt.  The miller began shredding and drying the coconut meat and Americans, at least in that city, finally had easy access to a tropical treat most would ordinarily never taste.  Did either of these coconut processes occur on May 8?  No one really knows the significance of May 8.  But for this post, National Coconut Cream Pie Day is our focus.
           Many years ago we were in a discussion with a group of Christians about the word “temptation” when Keith mentioned that “tempt” by its very definition means a possibility of and a desire to give in to that temptation.  No one wanted to accept that statement, probably because we all want to believe that we don’t want to sin.  We happened to know a certain brother’s dessert preferences because we had often eaten with that couple, and suddenly the solution came to me.
            “Bill cannot be tempted off his diet by a coconut cream pie,” I said.  “He cannot be tempted that way because he hates coconut.  Maybe chocolate, but not coconut.”  Click!  The light bulb went on for practically everyone.  Suddenly they understood what it meant to be tempted. 
            That understanding can lead to all sorts of discussions and get you into some deep water, but consider this one thing with me this morning.  I was “raised in the church,” as we often put it.  I had parents who taught me right from wrong in no uncertain terms.  Frankly, I have never even been tempted by most of the “moral” sins out there in the world.  I know a lot of others in the same situation.  But that doesn’t make us any better than someone who has just recently given his life to the Lord.  I am afraid that sometimes we think it does make us better.  When a young Christian tells me that older Christians look down on him when he says he still struggles with sin, I know we think so.
            Yet how does the fact that you have never struggled with a certain sin make you stronger than one who does?  In fact, since you have never struggled with it, how do you know you could win the fight at all?  There may be other temptations that cause us to fall, and not needing to fight one doesn’t mean we would be any better at fighting others.
            It only shows how weak we are when we pride ourselves on the fact that we have never been tempted in certain areas.  Ironically, that very feeling is our weakness, the thing that tempts us, and the thing in which we usually fail--pride, self-righteousness, unjust judgment, and a failure to love as we ought.
            What is your coconut cream pie?  What distaste keeps you from even being tempted in one area, and as a result, makes you fail the test of humility?  I might have to have a piece of pie while I think about it.
 
 And he spoke also this parable unto certain who trusted in themselves that they were righteous, and set all others at nought: Two men went up into the temple to pray; the one a Pharisee, and the other a publican.  The Pharisee stood and prayed thus with himself, God, I thank you, that I am not as the rest of men, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even as this publican. I fast twice in the week; I give tithes of all that I get. But the publican, standing afar off, would not lift up so much as his eyes unto heaven, but smote his breast, saying, God, be merciful to me a sinner. I say unto you, This man went down to his house justified rather than the other: for every one that exalts himself shall be humbled; but he that humbles himself shall be exalted, Luke 18:9-14.   
 
Dene Ward

I learned hospitality from my parents, and it was not because we had a large home with extra guest rooms and plenty of money to prepare lavish meals.  The first house I remember as a child was a two bedroom, one (tiny) bath house. We had an eat-in kitchen, not because it had plenty of room for a table and chairs but because that was the only place to eat, on a narrow ledge against the wall that we called a bar, three down one side and one person at the end, right in the doorway.  What I learned about hospitality in that little place was that our meager means had nothing to do with whether or not we offered it.
            I remember my mother talking about another young couple in the same congregation who understood the word exactly as they did.  After a Sunday evening service, my mother would look at the woman and say, "Well, I have a dozen eggs."  The woman would look back at her and say, "I have a loaf of bread."  Then that couple would come to our house and we would all eat scrambled eggs and toast.  And nothing else, because that is all we had.  Yet they did this again and again and their relationship became closer and closer because of it.
            I can imagine that some are thinking, "How awful!  I would never invite someone over for scrambled eggs and toast and nothing else."  And that means they do not understand the reason for all those hospitality commands in the New Testament.  As those two young couples learned:  it's not about fancy meals and beautiful accommodations—it's about being together.
            And day by day, attending the temple together and breaking bread in their homes, they received their food with glad and generous hearts, praising God and having favor with all the people. And the Lord added to their number day by day those who were being saved (Acts 2:46-47).  One of the reasons the early church grew and became as close as blood relatives was that they were together as much as possible, not just in their worship, but also in the homes, "day by day."
            I presented this once at a women's gathering and it was immediately objected to.  "That's not what we do these days," a woman said, meaning it is no longer a pleasant little custom to stop by and see one another in the evenings during the week, or even have someone over for an impromptu Sunday evening supper.  Well, guess what?  It wasn't a custom in the Roman Empire either.  Why do you think those commands are scattered through so many books in the New Testament?  Those people had to learn to do it, and they did because that is what they were told to do, and what they ultimately discovered would make the church what God intended it to be, and it did.
            Many years ago we had a dismal week that left us near to despair in our work with a particular congregation.  A couple there took it upon themselves to drop by to cheer us up.  Because of my mother's influence, I simply had to offer them something.  I had baked ginger cookies (we couldn't afford chocolate chips) the day before to put in the boys' cookie jar, and Keith is a master popcorn popper, the old-fashioned way, on the stove-top with bacon drippings.  That is what we offered them—ginger cookies and popcorn, and we sat there stuffing our faces while the gloom melted from our hearts like sun on the morning fog--for at least a little while.  That is what hospitality among brethren is all about.
            This week, find someone with a loaf of bread and offer them some scrambled eggs to go along with it.  It may not be haute cuisine ("high cooking"), but it will certainly lift your spirits higher, and who knows what other good may come of it?  After all, it was God's idea in the first place.
 
Contribute to the needs of the saints and seek to show hospitality (Rom 12:13).
Above all, keep loving one another earnestly, since love covers a multitude of sins. Show hospitality to one another without grumbling (1Pet 4:8-9).
One who heard us was a woman named Lydia, from the city of Thyatira, a seller of purple goods, who was a worshiper of God. The Lord opened her heart to pay attention to what was said by Paul. And after she was baptized, and her household as well, she urged us, saying, “If you have judged me to be faithful to the Lord, come to my house and stay.” And she prevailed upon us (Acts 16:14-15).
 
Dene Ward
 
 

I love shortbread—at its simplest, real butter, flour, sugar, in a ratio of 3 to 2 to 1.  Pat it in a pan and bake it in a low oven.  With black coffee, or hot chocolate, or hot tea, or even good old Southern sweet tea to wash it down, I am happy.  And today makes me especially happy because it is National Shortbread Day.
            What does this have to do with history, you ask?  Like most other things, shortbread has a history.  It was invented sometime in the 12th Century by Scottish women who took leftover bread dough, sweetened it, and then dried it out in the oven to form something called a "rusk", a twice-baked biscuit.  Over time, the yeast in the dough was traded out for butter, and that suddenly made this an expensive treat saved mainly for special occasions.   Everyone loved it, including Mary, Queen of Scots, whose bakers refined the cookie to suit her tastes in the 16th Century.  She was especially fond of a version called Petticoat Tails which were flavored with caraway seeds.
            As to why January 6 was chosen for National Shortbread Day, I have been unable to find the answer.  I wondered if Queen Mary's history had anything to do with it, but no, neither her birth nor death date is January 6, nor was the date of her ascension to the throne.  So we will just be satisfied that today is the day and not worry about why.  Any reason is a good one for eating shortbread.
            One thing I like about shortbread is its versatility.  You can pat it in a round cake pan and cut it into wedges after it is baked.  You can pat it into an oblong pan and cut the finished cookies into fingers, triangles, or squares.  You can roll out the dough and cut it into shapes before baking.  You can stamp an emblem on it.
            Add some chopped toasted pecans and you have pecan shortbread.  Roll those into balls, and roll the baked cookies in powdered sugar and you have pecan sandies.
Exchange almond paste for some of the butter.  Leave out the vanilla and add almond extract; brush the dough with egg white and sprinkle with sparkling sugar and sliced almonds.  Suddenly your simple shortbread is almond shortbread.
            Add the grated zest of a lemon instead of vanilla.  Slather the cooked bars with a glaze made of the same lemon’s juice and some powdered sugar—iced lemon shortbread bars.  (Warning:  this is an adult cookie; kids are not crazy about it.)
            Cut your plain old shortbread into fingers.  Then, after baking and cooling, dip one end into melted semi-sweet or bittersweet chocolate.  Leave some plain chocolate.  Dip others in chopped nuts before the chocolate sets.  Plain shortbread has suddenly become elegant.
            You can even use shortbread dough as the base for a layered dessert.  Just bake it and cool it first, enough to cover a 9 x 13 pan.  Add chopped nuts or not before baking as you please.  The layers can be three or four of your choosing—various flavors and mixings of pudding, peanut butter, cream cheese, powdered sugar, fruit pie fillings, drained crushed pineapple, sweetened whipped cream, chopped nuts, toasted coconut, chopped chocolate bars, whatever you can imagine.  Chill and cut into layered squares, either light or rich, depending on your choices.  And it all started with a base of butter, flour, and sugar.
            Any time I hear someone say the Bible is no longer relevant, I think of shortbread.  It doesn’t matter for which of life’s situations you need guidance, God’s word contains something to help you.  Not only does it include the principles of marriage, but several real life examples as well—everything from good, sound marriages to marriages dealing with unfaithfulness and abuse.  The same is true with childrearing.  We are not stuck with abstract ideas like “raise your children in the nurture and admonition of the Lord.”  We have examples of parents who made a mess of things—favoritism, lack of discipline, provocation, poor teaching.  We have parents who loved too much and in the wrong ways.  And we have the results of all those mistakes in heartbreaking detail.
            We have stories of neighbors who couldn’t get along and how they settled things.  We have stories of servants (think “employees”) who served well, and those who didn’t, and what made the difference.  We have stories of good masters (employers) and bad.  We have stories of those who handled power well and those who did not.  And if you can’t find exactly the same circumstances you need help with, “As you would that men should do unto you, do you also unto them,” covers a whole lot of territory, including email and cell phone etiquette.
            Just as shortbread can fit any situation from a children’s lunch to a family meal to an elegant party, God’s word works no matter what situation you find yourself in.  Keep a close eye out and I think you will find that people who think the Bible is irrelevant simply don’t want to follow its guidelines.  It isn’t that God says nothing about their situation; it’s that they don’t like His solution.
But that is nothing new either.  Ahab, one of the wickedest kings in Israel’s history, said of the prophet Micaiah, “I don’t like him because he never says anything good about me.”  There was a way to fix that; Ahab just didn’t like the remedy.
            God does not leave his children without guidance in every situation they might encounter.  It is up to us to find that guidance and obey it.
 
The works of his hands are faithful and just; all his precepts are trustworthy;
They are established forever and ever, to be performed with faithfulness and uprightness, Psalm 111:7,8.
 
Dene Ward
 

The other day I was talking with a friend who loves to cook as much as I do.  We both spoke of how much more fun it is to cook for people who were not picky eaters.  When all that effort sits in the bowls and platters on the table with scarcely a dent made in them because this one prefers this and that one prefers that, it is hard not to be offended.  The very fact that I know so many more picky eaters these days than I did as a child emphasizes how wealthy this society has become.  Hungry people are not picky eaters.
            Real hunger is not a concept we understand.  We eat by the clock instead of by our stomachs, which may be the biggest reason so many of us are overweight.  If we only ate when we were truly hungry, would we eat too much on a regular basis?  A celebratory feast, which used to happen only once or twice or year, has become a weekly, if not daily, occurrence for many.
            And because we do not understand true physical hunger, we cannot understand Jesus’ blessing upon those who hunger and thirst after righteousness.  We think being willing to sit through one sermon a week makes us worthy, when that is probably the shallowest application of that beatitude.  We don’t want a spiritual feast.  We want something light, with fewer calories, requiring little effort to eat.  In fact, sometimes we want to be fed too.  Spiritual eating has become too much trouble.
            How many of us skip Bible classes?  How many daydream during the sermons, plan the afternoon ahead, even text message each other?  If more than one adult class is offered on Sunday mornings, how many choose the one that requires more study or deeper thinking?  When extra classes are offered during the week, what percentage of the church actually chooses to attend?  How many of us are actively pursuing our own studies at home, studies beyond that needed for the Sunday morning class?  If we won’t even eat the meals especially prepared for us by others, how in the world will be seek righteousness on our own and how will we ever progress past simple Bible study in satisfying our spiritual hunger?
            Picky eaters suddenly become omnivores when they really need to eat.  For some reason we think we can fast from spiritual food and still survive.  Amazing how we can deceive ourselves so easily. 
            So, what’s on your menu today, or have you even planned one?
 
Oh how love I your law! It is my meditation all the day. Your commandments make me wiser than my enemies; for they are ever with me. I have more understanding than all my teachers; for your testimonies are my meditation. I understand more than the aged, because I have kept your precepts. I have refrained my feet from every evil way, that I might observe your word. I have not turned aside from your ordinances; for You have taught me. How sweet are your words to my taste! sweeter than honey to my mouth! Through your precepts I get understanding: therefore I hate every false way. Psalm 119:97-104.
 
Dene Ward

I had the same rosemary plant for about 15 years.  When I began an herb garden, I had no idea what I was doing or how to do it, so the fact that this piney smelling, woody herb was a perennial rather than an annual was a big surprise.  Every spring it came back from frosts and light freezes of the type we have here in Florida, and grew bigger and fuller.  Until one year it began to die limb by limb and, eventually, didn't make it through the cold.
                So I bought another one this year.  I did exactly what I had done the first time:  I went to the garden section of the big box home improvement store and picked out the nicest looking rosemary plant they had.  For two months it sat there and did nothing.  It did not grow one inch.  The first day I needed some, I cut way back on the amount the recipe called for because I was afraid I would kill the thing if I actually snipped off two four inch stems.  And they weren't even four inch stems—it had never gotten that large.
                Finally, I had had enough.  We were at the same store and I picked up another plant.  This one showed new growth on the limbs within a week and I have used it several times without harming the plant at all.  It sits there with its little arms spread out as if it is reaching for the sun, with new, bright green showing up every day.  Pardon my anthropomorphism, but this little guy wants to grow and flourish while the other plant, now four months from its original installation, still just sits there.  It hasn't wilted and died yet, though I have expected it for a good while.  No, it just doesn't give a hoot.  Sooner or later I will yank it up to make room for something useful.
                Funny how I have seen the same thing happen among Christians.  You can't hide it, folks, and as a Bible class teacher I really can see it.  One student comes in excited and takes notes like a whirling dervish, answering and asking questions, eager to not only share what she has discovered but also to find out where she may have erred.  (Imagine that!)  Another comes and spends the entire time looking at her phone, looking up to me occasionally, but only if someone has laughed because she wants to see what she has missed. 
           Sitting on a pew is not what Christianity is about.  Don't get me wrong—I certainly have nothing against assembling together (see yesterday's post).  God seems to think we need it, judging by the number of things we are supposed to do "when you are come together," and I would never second-guess God.  But if sitting on a pew is all there is to your Christianity, you are useless to Him and sooner or later you will die.  We are supposed to grow so we can give of ourselves to Him, each other, and the community we live in, and then grow some more so we can give some more.  Over and over again.
                I expect to have this new plant for the rest of my time here.  As long as it keeps its present "attitude," I will.  What can God expect of you?
 
I am the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing. If anyone does not abide in me he is thrown away like a branch and withers; and the branches are gathered, thrown into the fire, and burned.  (John 15:5-6).

Dene Ward

So I would have younger widows marry, bear children, manage their households, and give the adversary no occasion for slander. (1Tim 5:14).
 
              With so many of us confined to home these days, now might be the perfect time to discuss what it means to "manage" the home.  I fear we have let the world tell us that being an organized, hardworking, guardian/teacher of one's home and children isn't anything to be proud of—we must have something "fulfilling" to do with our lives.  One of the ways we perpetuate the myth of a soap opera addicted, bonbon munching idler is by a slapdash effort and constant complaining about the tedium of it all, finding every excuse to sleep late and post on Facebook forty times a day.  Let's see what we can do to change that. 
              When we become stay-at-home moms, and later, stay-at-home workers/servants in the kingdom, our husbands are treating us as managers of the shop, so to speak.  He leaves every day to work in another venue and expects that the home and family he has entrusted into our care will be run economically—within the living he brings home—and efficiently.  It is up to us to know who needs to be where and when and get them there—doctor's appointments, school functions, recitals, etc.—in clean, appropriate clothing.  It is up to us to keep track of the supplies everyone in the house depends on—toothpaste, deodorant, toilet paper (a little tricky these days), ibuprofen, bandaids, etc.  And it is up to us to fill those needs as thriftily as possible. 
             We are now in a time when jobs have disappeared or hours been cut, when some groceries have become hard-to-find, and prices accordingly higher.  How we manage the home matters more than ever before—at least more than it ever has for most young people.  They never had a Great Depression to learn in.  I hope this post today will help you out, and you won't mind it being a bit long—or a lot long, actually.
              I am sure most of these things have been listed elsewhere on the internet.  You can probably find more exhaustive lists, and other ideas of accomplishing the same things.  These suggestions—and that's all they are—are just to help you begin thinking on your own, to supply a little inspiration as you deal with your own family's particular needs.  We have been through several personal economic depressions, and this is how we got through them.
              As the manager of my home, I spend a good two hours every week going through sales flyers, cutting coupons (sometimes digitally these days), planning menus based on those sales, and making a shopping list.  As for coupons, I do not buy anything I won't eventually need.  I prefer to use a coupon when something is on sale so I get a double whammy.  I go to town ONCE, so as not to waste gas, and get everything done in one day.  I used to do that with babies in tow, too.  I keep my lists on one of those postage paid envelopes people are always sending you in the junk mail, with the appropriate coupons inside, along with things like dry cleaners receipts and bank deposit slips.  As I make every stop, any new receipt goes inside the envelope so everything is together when I get it home.
              As for cost saving tricks, do not think in terms of disposables any more than you can help it.  One bottle of dish detergent will wash a hundred times more plates, cups, and bowls for the money than the same dollar amount will buy paper goods. I am sure the same is true of dishwasher soap, but I don't have a dishwasher.
          Save plastic bags, especially freezer bags which are thicker and tougher.  Wash them out and dry them, which usually means to hang them somewhere.  (Sometimes my kitchen looks like a laundry room.)  Fabric softener sheets can be used more than once, in fact, until they get flimsy and crumpled. 
           Take all those singleton socks that have been bereaved of their mates by the sock-eating washer, slip them on your hand and dust to your heart's content.  Then throw that one in the washer.  Who knows?  It might even find its missing mate that way, or join it in the great Sock Beyond. 
           You know that bottle that says, "Shampoo.  Rinse, and Repeat?"  You don't have to repeat!  Just make sure your hair is really wet the first time and you will have plenty of lather to wash it with.  Especially if you are one of those people who wash their hair nearly every time they shower, you do not need to repeat.  It's just a waste of shampoo.  But I am sure these are things you have heard again and again as thrifty homemakers have been doing them for decades.
              Now to practice a little self-discipline.  When you have been able to buy whatever you want for most of your life, it may come as a shock that you can't do that any longer.  But here is your new rule:  if you can't afford it, you can't have it.  Sometimes credit cards make us think otherwise.  Learn this now.  If you no longer have the money, you have to stop the buying one way or the other.  For some people it takes cutting up the credit card to get the point.  Do what you need to do.
             Tap water will hydrate you.  That's all we had when we were kids.  None of us died.  Get rid of the sodas.  Period.  Eventually, we reached the salary point that my boys could have Kool-Aid.  I did not have the luxury of avoiding sugar—the alternatives, like fruit juices, were simply too expensive.  When my mother was growing up during the Depression, even sweet tea was for Sundays only.  Every other day of the week, the family had tap water with their meals.  She lived to be 91, and her mother 97.  See?  It won't kill you!
              Get rid of the snacks.  All mine had were homemade cookies, which were a fraction of the cost of Chips Ahoy or Oreos, and the boys thought they were better off than their friends.  This, and some of what I add below, may mean your family needs a major attitude adjustment.  I remember my mother telling me how Daddy turned up his nose and complained when she put oleo on the table.  He made $30 a week and she had a $10/wk. grocery budget.  She took him shopping with her.  When he saw the price of real butter, he changed his tune.  Sometimes you have to make do, and the Lord expects us to be grateful for the fact that we have what we need to survive.  He will NOT be happy with the ungrateful who demand luxuries.
              We might very well have to change our minds about what we will and won't eat.  Organic, cage-free eggs cost over twice as much as regular eggs.  If you don't have celiac disease, you might want to forego your gluten-free diet.  Those things are always far more expensive than the usual varieties.  It costs extra money for most of these fad diets. 
              Save oil you have fried in, and all bacon grease.  (If you are a true Southerner, that last should go without saying.)  I actually had a small stovetop percolator for years into which I poured used oil.  The grounds basket sieved out the impurities and pieces of leftover fried food, and all it takes is a tablespoon or so of fresh oil to refresh the used.  I have had the same old coffee can, back when you could still get metal ones, for bacon grease that I had when the boys were growing up.  What do I use the drippings for?  Seasoning Southern vegetables, greasing a biscuit pan, making cornbread, frying eggs or potatoes, or anything else that might benefit from bacon flavor.
             If you use a lot of canned goods (vegetables, I mean) keep any drained off liquid in a glass jar in the fridge to use as broth when you make soup.  Just add to it all week.  I usually made soup at least once a week because I always had a good quart of makeshift broth by then.  Potato soup, French onion soup, tomato soup, root vegetable bisque, plain old vegetable soup—none of these contain meat and all are made with relatively inexpensive items.
            There are any number of meatless meals, or meals where the meat can be skimped on.  Usually these meals are heavy on the starch (carbs), but that's what fills people up.  You yourself may need to cut back (diabetics, for example), but if you have teenage boys as I did, you will want to keep them satisfied and starch does the trick.  Beans and rice are the ultimate example.  Red beans and rice, black beans and rice—same dish, different spices and seasoning.  True Cuban black beans and rice contains no meat whatsoever.  If your recipe does for either of those dishes, cut the amount in half, or consider using a bone.  (Save all of your bones, by the way to make stock or to season soups and vegetables.)  And cut the meat into smaller pieces so more mouthfuls will have meat in them.  Then there are pinto beans and cornbread, Great Northern beans and cornbread, dried baby limas and cornbread, and on and on we go.  Lentil soup is basically a bean dish.  Pasta fagioli is an Italian soup with very little but white beans and pasta in it, and it is delicious.
             Eggs are another standby.  You can make omelets with whatever bits and pieces of leftovers you have—a few ham cubes, a shred or two of cheese, some chopped peppers and onions, etc.  Do not throw any bits and pieces of anything away! 
             Pasta with Eggs and Cheese is quick, easy, and cheap.  Boil a pound of spaghetti in heavily salted water.  Beat together three eggs and 2/3 cup of shredded Pecorino Romano or Parmagiana Reggianno cheese (pecorino is cheaper).  Drain the spaghetti and while it is still hot, pour the eggs and cheese over it and toss constantly, allowing the heat of the pasta to cook the eggs, until every strand is coated with cooked egg and melted cheese.  If you want it creamier, add ¼-1/2 cup of the pasta water (or milk if you want to splurge).  Some people add a couple tablespoons of butter, but we never did and it was just fine.
            Pancakes and waffles will also fill the bill—cheap and satisfying.  Biscuits and gravy are a favorite for many.  We couldn't afford the sausage, but even cream gravy made with milk, flour, and plenty of bacon grease was wonderful over hot biscuits.  When I was a child, my mother would sometimes make a huge pan of biscuits and then pull out everything she could find in the fridge and pantry to go on them—butter, jam, preserves, peanut butter, honey, maple syrup.  We kids loved it.  We had no idea that the money had run out that week—we thought it was a treat!
               I never pay full price for meat, but always buy it on sale, plus one thing extra to freeze.  As the weeks go by, you will find yourself needing to buy less meat at the time.  A couple of paragraphs ago I talked about cutting the meat in half for your bean dishes.  Do it for everything.  For chicken breasts, lay your hand on top of the breast, and cut horizontally beneath your hand.  Every breast will make two servings, and your eye will be fooled into thinking it is a whole breast.  Do the same with boneless pork chops.  If they have been frozen, do the slicing while they are still a little firm in the center and it will be easier to control the knife and keep the slice even. 
             Then there is the tale of the three night whole chicken, something I did again and again so long ago a chicken could be found for 19 cents a pound, and even then it was almost more than we could afford.
              Take the breasts and do the trick above, cutting them in half horizontally.  That is your splurge meal, assuming there are no more than four in your family.  Bread and fry, or oven fry, or grill, or use in any other recipe, including something a little nicer, like Chicken Milanese.  The second night use the thighs and drumsticks for a potpie or other chicken casserole your family likes.  Double up on any vegetables or starch the recipe contains.  Who knows?  That one might even last you two nights if you do it right. 
              On the last night, use the back and wings to make the broth for chicken and dumplings.  In the Deep South and parts of Appalachia, our dumplings are called "slicks" or "slickers."  A dough of flour, eggs, butter, salt, and some of the broth is rolled out flat on a heavily floured board and cut into strips about two inches long.  Because of the eggs in them, when they are boiled, they become fairly thick and all that flour you rolled them in will help thicken the broth, especially if you have cooled and then reheated them.  What you will have is more like dumplings and chicken rather than chicken and dumplings, but that's the point here—how to get by on a shoestring budget.  Chicken and rice is another good option.  Just use the same philosophy—less meat, lots of starch. 
              This is how the world survived during the Depression and we can do the same.  I am sure this is far more information than you actually need.  You are smart enough to see the pattern and implement it in ways that meet your families' needs and tastes. 
             We have much to be grateful for.  This is a time to learn some lessons our culture has sorely needed to revisit for a few decades now.  We will get through this because our God is in control, and He expects us to be good stewards of the blessings He has showered upon us.
 
Moreover, it is required of stewards that they be found faithful.  (1Cor 4:2).
 
Dene Ward

I just made a chocolate mousse cake.  This is one of THOSE recipes—you know, one of those trendy kinds you find in upscale restaurants, the kind that come with a chocolate or raspberry swirl on the white china plate, a piped dollop of whipped cream on the side and maybe even a shard of caramel “glass” sticking up out of it.  This recipe is bound to get me oohs and aahs at the table from excited guests who suddenly think I must be a gourmet cook.  And that’s when I start feeling guilty.  Why?  Because this conglomeration of bittersweet chocolate, butter, eggs, brown sugar, and vanilla took me exactly 15 minutes to put together and throw in the oven.  The only thing hard about it is waiting 8 hours for it to chill so it won’t fall completely apart when you try to cut it.
              I don’t deserve any oohs and aahs and it certainly wasn’t hard to do.  I will grant you that it tastes amazing—but look at that ingredient list above and tell me how it could not.  I have absolutely nothing to do with how it tastes unless I buy cheap ingredients—like Hershey bars and margarine.  Taking a bow for producing this cake is like claiming a cordon bleu culinary education when all you’ve had is watching your mother and grandmother and reading a few cookbooks.
              Have you ever had a friend ask you how you do it?  How you go through some of the trials you have been through, yet live a happy and contented life, in fact, a life of joy and faith?    What do you instantly say?  Do you claim huge inner strength and unimpeachable character?  Do you talk about your spiritual integrity?  Of course not.  You tell them that you had nothing to do with it except having the sense, or maybe the desperation, to take your Heavenly Father’s offer and let Him handle things.
              And it was just that simple, wasn’t it?  No, not really.  A lot of time passed before it really “took,” before you really could face your demons with assurance instead of doubt, before you could race toward that “way of escape” instead of stumbling through it, before you could sit back and let God be in control and accept His will instead of trying to figure things out so you could understand them.  And sometimes you still don't quite manage.
              It takes a long time to say those words Abraham said on that mountaintop 4000 years ago--God is able; God will provide.  But once you have reached that point, it’s just that simple.  Every time life hands you the inexplicable, you don’t try to understand, you just count on God to handle it.  How can anyone take the credit for that?
 
Both riches and honor come from you, and you rule over all. In your hand are power and might, and in your hand it is to make great and to give strength to all. And now we thank you, our God, and praise your glorious name, 1Chr 29:12-13

Dene Ward

Have you finished the leftover turkey marathon yet?  Turkey pot pie, turkey divan, turkey enchiladas, turkey soup, turkey salad, and anything else that will use up a good-sized portion of that leftover bird.  It seems they all have something in common—some sort of sauce, gravy, or broth to make the endlessly heated up, dried out meat palatable.  If you like turkey leftovers, it is not the turkey you like—it is what the turkey becomes, a new dish with flavorful moist ingredients that fill you up and satisfy your hunger.  You can only reheat unadorned meat so many times before it turns into sawdust.
            While my family enjoys leftover turkey dishes, God most emphatically does not like leftovers. 
            If you are a gardener, you understand the concept of first-fruits.  The first pickings, like the first serving of turkey, are always the best.  By the end of the summer the beans are tough, the corn is starchy, the squash is wormy, and the tomatoes are small and hard or half-rotten.  That is why you doll them up in casseroles and sauces.  I always make the tomato sauce in July.  The June tomatoes are ripe, sweet and juicy, far too good to turn into sauce.
            God has always expected the first-fruits from His people. The first of the first-fruits of your ground you shall bring into the house of Jehovah your God, Ex 23:19.  He expected the first-fruits of everything to be given to His servants, the priests, who waited on Him night and day, And this shall be the priests' due from the people, from them that offer a sacrifice, whether it be ox or sheep, that they shall give unto the priest the shoulder, and the two cheeks, and the maw. The first-fruits of your grain, of your new wine, and of your oil, and the first of the fleece of your sheep, shall you give him, Deut 18:3,4.
            The Israelites in Malachi’s day discovered exactly how God felt about offerings that were less than the best.  You offer polluted bread upon my altar. And you say, Wherein have we polluted you? In that you say, The table of Jehovah is contemptible. And when you offer the blind for sacrifice, it is no evil! And when you offer the lame and sick, it is no evil! Present it now to your governor; will he be pleased with you? Or will he accept you? says Jehovah of hosts, Mal 1:7,8..
            We usually cite these verses when it comes time to put money in the plate.  Certainly we should be planning ahead, “purposing in our hearts” what we will give to God, rather than reaching for the leftover change in our pockets.  But what about the rest of our “offerings?”
            Too many of us give God our leftover time.  Rather than planning to pray and study, scheduling time in the week to care for our brothers and sisters in need, and putting our assemblies at the top of our agendas, we wait till we have finished what we consider necessary, then look to see if we can give any time and energy to God.  Usually it is too late, or we are too tired, or something else that really cannot be rescheduled takes the last few minutes of our day.  If there is time, we are tired, our energy flagging and our concentration poor.  No wonder some of the children I have taught in Bible classes treat the concept of a family Bible study as something unheard of.  No wonder the adults in Bible classes sit close-mouthed with little to offer to edify their brothers and sisters, or spout out something that even a quick study of scripture would prove to be wrong.
            It only makes sense for us to give God our best.  God has given us His best too, an only begotten Son, the firstfruits of them that are asleep, 1 Cor 15:20, as a hope of the resurrection.
            God not only expects us to give our first-fruits, he expects us to be one. Of his own will he brought us forth by the word of truth, that we should be a kind of firstfruits of his creatures, James 1:18.  Maybe that is the problem—our lives do not match the concept.  Instead, we are the blemished fruit, the tough, small, wormy, and half-rotten.  How can we give God anything else when that is all we have to offer?  This business of leftover offerings covers far more than the collection plate, far more than we would like to believe.
            Turkey leftovers are one thing.  They have a place, especially in the lives of those trying to be good stewards of their blessings.  But leftovers in my service to God might as well be fed to the dog.
 
Honor Jehovah with your substance, and with the first-fruits of all your increase: So shall your barns be filled with plenty, and your vats shall overflow with new wine, Prov 3:8,9.
 
Dene Ward

I was utterly confused when the older lady asked me about the bread recipe I had mentioned.
 
             “Is it short?” she wanted to know.

              The reply on the tip of my tongue was that it was about an inch high, but intuition told me that was not what she meant.  Someone else came to my rescue then and I gradually realized over the first few years of married life that “short” in cooking had nothing to do with height. 

              Shortening does exactly what its name implies.  It shortens the strands of gluten in a bread dough.  In a quick bread, which doesn’t take hours to rest and rise, that is important.  If it were not “shortened” it would be too tough to chew.  So biscuits, cornbread and other un-yeasted breads are far shorter than yeasted ones.

              Which shortening you choose makes a world of difference too.  Butter, oils, meat fats, and plain old shortening are the most commonly used, and the texture and flavor you want determines which one.  If you want a sandier texture, use oil; if you want a flakier texture, use shortening.  If the flavor makes a difference, choose olive oil for Mediterranean breads and bacon fat for cornbread—if you are from the south, that is. 

              Some recipes call for a mix of two or more shortenings to produce the best of each.  You want a great cookie?  Click on my recipes on the left sidebar and then click on Almond Crunch Cookies, which use both oil and butter—great flavor plus sandy texture. 

             I prefer to keep my pie crusts plain so they won’t detract from the filling.  To that end I use shortening only.  It also makes a flakier crust.  Others mix butter and shortening, but I can tell you from experience that an all butter pie crust is difficult to work with and tends to be heavy.
 
             Then there is cornbread.  I can tell from a recipe whether the cook is from up north or down south.  Northerners use less cornmeal, a good bit of sugar, and either oil or melted butter as their shortening—except maybe some Midwesterners who live where pork is king.  I nearly flipped when a television chef based in New York used 1 cup of cornmeal to three cups of flour.  To a southerner, it’s called cornbread because it has both the taste and texture of dried corn, plus that wonderful yumminess of bacon in the background.

              I have been trying to figure out what we Christians use as our shortening, and I think it has to be love.  Love can change both the texture and flavor of what you do.  Notice Mark 10:21:  And Jesus looking upon him loved him, and said unto him, One thing you lack…  Love made Jesus tell this young man, the one who had done well at keeping the law all his life, exactly what he lacked.  Try doing that without love and see how far it gets you.

              Sometimes love is tasty and easy to get down.  Sticking your finger in cake batter is a whole lot nicer than doing the same with pie crust.  One is far sweeter and has much more flavor than the other.  So pats on the back, compliments and pep rally encouragement are easy to stomach.  It doesn’t take any maturity to handle it well.

           Sometimes love gets a little salty.  Let your speech be always with grace, seasoned with salt, that you may know how you ought to answer each one.  Col 4:6.  Salt can sting an open wound, and sometimes that is exactly what we need—a sharp word to wake us up.  That one is harder to handle, but what are we?  Toddlers who still think that discipline means Mama and Daddy are mean, or adults who have learned the benefits of correction?
 
             Keith grew up in a family where compliments were rare, almost non-existent.  Until the day they died I never once heard his parents praise one of his sermons or Bible lessons.  They viewed criticism as a way of helping, and if they didn’t love him why would they try to help at all?  Most of the people up in those hills were exactly the same way.  They appreciated plain speech, people saying what they mean and meaning what they say.  They viewed pro forma compliments as hypocritical, and indeed, any teacher knows when the man shaking his hand and saying, “Good lesson,” means it and when he doesn’t.

              And we should recognize the value of love in all its forms.  When you know that a rebuke comes from a heart of love it is much easier to take, even a salty one—love shortens those tough strands of “gluten” and makes them tenderer and easier to chew on.  Don’t ever dismiss a word of exhortation because it doesn’t taste good to you.  God expects you to recognize the shortening and use the admonition to improve yourself whether you like its flavor or not. 

             A friend of mine once tried to sift some biscuit mix to “get out all those lumps,” not realizing they were lumps of shortening.  What she produced were the toughest biscuits anyone ever tried to eat.  If you try to get rid of the rebuke, even if it is shortened with love, God won’t be happy with your end product either.  In fact, the comment you get from Him when you try to excuse yourself from not listening is likely to be something like, “That’s tough!”
 
Let a righteous man strike me—it is a kindness; let him rebuke me—it is oil for my head; let my head not refuse it... ​Better is open rebuke than hidden love. Faithful are the wounds of a friend; profuse are the kisses of an enemy… Those whom I love, I reprove and discipline, so be zealous and repent…Psa 141:5; Prov 27:5,6; Rev 3:19. 
 
Dene Ward