When my Mom was a kid, she and her sisters would grab a bucket and walk to the Reading Railroad yard at Wayne Junction. They would walk up and down the tracks, picking up stray pieces of coal.
That's how they heated their house at Christmas.
My Dad came home from The War and worked as a second-shift machinist at a factory in Philadelphia. He came home for lunch at 8:00 each evening ... worked until after midnight. Never complained.
By the time my Mom and Dad passed away, they had enjoyed a house in the suburbs, with a pool. Dad had bought, and discarded, his Cadillac. They had travelled to Europe, the South Pacific and most places in between.
And they had a son who went to college.
Times change. God's soverign will never does.
The banking system may implode. All of us may be living through the greatest economic catastrophy since the Great Depression (don't know what was so great about it). And such a calamity would certainly strike the publishing industry as well, limiting resources and opportunities.
But people not only survived the Great Depression. Some prospered during. Some prospered after.
The people of Israel stood at the edge of the Red Sea, Pharoh's army braying at their backs, and they praised God. Before the water moved. They sang songs of praise.
Thats what we need for encouragement.
The water will move.
Until then, it's our job to praise God and do what he gives our hands to do. Whether that's picking up coal along the railroad tracks, or working at our craft ... making ourselves the best writers in the world.
If we have faith, this will be our best Christmas ever.
May God bless us ... every one.
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