The Old Ways

Last weekend, something mechanical died in our refrigerator. The door was warm to the touch and the ice/water dispenser suddenly stopped working. We worried about an electrical fire, so we bought a new fridge – to be delivered in a week – and unplugged it when we weren’t home or sleeping. Two days later, I couldn’t plug it in without blowing the kitchen circuit. This fridge was over 20 years old and original to the house. It survived the original smoking owners in the late 90’s (it’s white but the handles are yellowed with nicotine) and the previous owners, who ran quite the heroin business, destroyed it on an aesthetic and biohazard level (how do you scuff and scrape the inside of a fridge and not clean it when its obviously filthy?!). It was ugly, but it functioned. 

Our new fridge is smaller and doesn’t have the ice maker or water dispenser. I will miss that, but then again, this fridge fits in better with our simple, minimalistic if you will, lifestyle. 

The old fridge didn’t have a filter on the waterline and God only knows what was growing in those lines undectected. I always thought the ice tasted weird. Now we’re moving forward with a Brita pitcher and ice cube trays. It will be cleaner with no more atrohpied ice cubes or questionable water. I’m more aware of my surroundings when I have to do something about them. I don’t see it as a burden, I see it as living purposely. Just like following after Christ.

One of my favorite bloggers, Lore Ferguson Wilbert, once wrote about the joy of pitting cherries by hand, even though it took ages and buying them prepared could save time for something else. She says,

“….but when everything exists to make our lives easier, faster, more automated, and less work, well, what else is there to do but commentate? We become merely observers of life and not partakers in it.”

Lore Ferguson Wilbert

There is something calming to me about slowing down and working with my hands, becoming a part of the work that needs to be done. Whether it’s weeding the garden, mowing my lawn with a cutreel, watering my plants via watering can, or evening putting away the dishes, I’m taking the time to become a part my environment and be still without rushing to the next thing. I am partaking in my garden, not merely observing it. When I tell people I make bread, their eyes light up, “Oh, you have a bread machine?” No, I kneed, prove for an hour, knock it back, then wait another hour before baking for another hour. They always look befuddled. Who has the time for such things? I can only think, “Who has the money for a bread machine and the space to store it?”

The old ways are dying. We live in a very automated age and I think it bleeds over into our churches and everyday lives, where we expect things that should to take time, to act like an HVAC system: a touch of a button changes things to your comfort level and the troubleshooting manual or repair person will get your system working again. Grief, doubts, job frustration, marriage problems, singleness – we expect a quick fix because everything else in life has two day shipping or can be deduced after a few queries in a search engine. But it doesn’t work that way. God designed life not to work that way.

I recently discovered the joys of a french press coffee maker. I’ve abandoned my screen filtered drip coffee maker entirely. Yes, it takes more effort on my part, but the taste is worth it. I have this coffee ritual now: boil the water in the kettle, pour it onto my coffee grounds, stir, then wait four minutes before pressing the grounds, releasing all the flavor and oils. Of course, I add my natural creamer with sugar and the result is pure heaven. I’d rather have a good cuppa that takes a few extra minutes than a fast meh one. Also, my old coffee maker is in desperate need of a vinegar bath; something is probably growing in the moist dark inner parts. I can soak every part of the french press.

Faster isn’t always better. Sometimes the slow old ways remind us to slow down and take in life.

Just like I made time for Jesus, I am also making ice cubes and refilling a filtered pitcher of water for my family. And now, coffee takes a few more pouring and stirring steps. It’s part of life here at the Dovecote, and I am proud to be a part of it.

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