Six Funerals and a Wedding

Last week was an expensive week. I order bulk food supplies from an Amish store 20 miles south of us and I went to pick them up last Saturday with two friends. As I checked out of the store, my bill came to almost $200. My friends watched as a man behind me in line dropped his jaw in shock and looked at his wife with wide, pleading eyes. I’m sure he hoped her bill would be more reasonable. We laughed at all this once we got in the car, and I confessed to my friends that I’m having trouble with spending money these days.

When we lived in Africa, there were times it was difficult to buy daily necessities. One time rebel activity dried up the supply of meat and flour in the local market for most of 2 months. Many times we were not able to find powdered milk we used to make yogurt. If there were fruits and vegetables in the market, I would buy them when I found them, because I knew there would be no guarantee that they would ever be there again. There were similar shortages of toilet paper, laundry soap, and sugar. Nine years of life in Africa created some bad habits that are resurfacing these days.

One highlight of my week is always Sunday lunch. I usually plan a large meal each week for whoever wants to hang around after worship and Sunday School. This past Sunday we had a couple nearing retirement, a woman my age, two single people in their thirties, and a 25 year old. I would love to say my ratatouille (made from my own harvested eggplant, zucchini, green peppers and basil) enticed people to stay for lunch, but I know better. The conversation around the table is why people stay. Topics range from politics, movies, the sermon, war, sex (don’t get us started on sexually transmitted diseases…..it isn’t the most appealing meal conversation...trust me) to recently read books. Sunday’s conversation started with politics and ended up on the mortgage crisis, weddings and debt.

Every day in the news we hear about a possible recession, current inflation, the latest increase in fuel prices, bank failures and some pretty dismal economic realities facing our nation. I realized after my trip to the Amish store that I’m letting the current economic uncertainty put me into an African state of mind. I am spending more than normal buying extra because I’m afraid the price is going to go up tomorrow. I’m spending more trying to save money. It is a luxury. Many facing this economic crisis in our nation don’t have the option of stocking up to save money. I confessed this realization to my husband as I wondered how to put my fear and hoarding into perspective. We both agreed that at times it feels like we are witnessing life in America becoming like life in Africa.

Last fall in a six week period we had 6 funerals and a wedding in our faith community. It was a difficult time for the meeting. Many of those who died were active in worship; were good friends and their loss painful and stunning to our meeting. Those six friends collectively represented over 300 years of marriage (one had never married) and all of them lived through the Depression. It was difficult in the midst of mourning to celebrate a wedding, but the witness of those marriages gave us reason to bless and encourage a young couple at their wedding celebration. In the months since the funerals and the wedding, I’ve thought a lot about life, traditions and rituals in our American culture.

For years I’ve told anyone who would listen about the things I learned from living in Africa and having African friends. With the loss of my Depression era friends last fall and my grandfather this spring, it dawned upon me that most of what I picked up from my African friends was modeled by this Depression generation. It took me years of living in Africa and stepping out of our current American culture to see the world through their eyes.

The Depression generation (and Africa) taught me about connectedness to our earth. That life and health came from growing your own food as much as possible. And manual labor to grow and cook the food we eat is a noble thing. In Michael Pollan’s book “In Defense of Food: An Eater’s Manifesto” he suggests we eat food recognized by our great-grandparents. My desire to cook Sunday lunch comes from memories of wonderful home cooked, home grown meals with my grandparents. I’ve experienced many of those same wonderful meals here in Winchester around the tables of those Depression era people. One of the friends we lost last fall always made it a point to serve meals that came entirely from her garden and the barn.

The Depression generation taught me to be wary of debt and to not live beyond what we earn. They taught me how to save and how to be frugal with money and material things. They helped me realize the value of being involved in a faith community and how integral it is to everyday life. Their faithful involvement in church taught me the church needs my faithful presence too. Living in Africa taught me that I can live without a lot of what I think I need. I am ashamed that I am in this buying and hoarding frame of mind. In my defense, I am the local supplier in our meeting for natural brown rice, raw sugar and stone ground whole wheat flour, but the reality is that I don’t need to have access to everything all the time. I can do without. I can improvise with what I do have. And sometimes I think paying higher prices causes me to reevaluate what I am spending my money on. That is a good thing.

One of the best lessons the Depression generation taught me is the joy possible from being married for 50 or 60 years. They showed me how to love in sickness and in health. They taught me that sometimes life and our closest relationships aren’t always easy, but stability and faithfulness bring joy and peace. They modeled incredible love for their spouses, for their faith community and for God. In my world, I deal with too many divorces, too many broken relationships, too many people who aren’t committed to anything, much less committed to a faith community. Having a vision for what is possible and for what brings real happiness and peace at the end of life is a blessing to my world.

More than once I’ve heard my Depression era friends say they hope our nation never goes through another depression ever again. And yet, I wonder if this current economic situation isn’t such a bad thing. If difficult economic times teach me to be a better, more compassionate human being, if recessions and depressions teach me to be more careful with money, to make my life simpler, if they teach me to nurture and cherish relationships and our earth, if economic uncertainties cause me to lean on my faith community and to be a vital participant in providing service, ministry and help to others who are struggling....then maybe these aren’t such difficult days after all.