Being the youngest of six children, I got hand-me-downs from both my sisters and my brothers. We didn’t have much, but I guess some of us didn’t know it.
Daddy worked a full-time job, went to school at Emory University and pastored three country churches. There was only one car, so Daddy shopped for groceries and other household goods. Mama kept herd on six preacher’s kids! She had her hands full just with the washing, cleaning and cooking plus the thousand other things she did.
One year, the food on our table was provided by funerals. That may be morbid to think about, but when someone died, daddy was asked to do the funeral. The money he was paid for his services provided our groceries.
I didn’t worry much about what we were going to eat. I only knew there was always food on the table. Actually, there was one more thing I knew – I hated oatmeal. No matter, it was a regular at the breakfast table. It was cheap, it stuck to our ribs, it was a hot meal and even spiced up with sugar and milk, it tasted terrible. One day I had enough! I sat in my highchair (I was a little kid) at the dining room table and refused to take one more bite! Through the dining room window, I could see my brothers and sisters playing and running outside. But I had to stay there until I finished my breakfast.
Soon I heard Mama in the kitchen starting lunch. It sure smelled good! It wouldn’t be long! Lunch was served but guess what sat in front of me! You guessed it – cold oatmeal. Guess what had to be eaten before I got any warm lunch? Yep – an oatmeal popsicle on a spoon.
I learned a couple of valuable lessons that day. For one, Mama was not easily persuaded. She didn’t give an inch – didn’t budge – was immovable – was downright stubborn.
I learned something else, too.Just because something is good for us, it doesn’t mean it tastes good.
At least I didn’t have to eat grits!!