The post World War II era people of America dreamed of this, the white house and picket fence, the husband, wife and two children and a dog, church on Sunday. The matinees on Saturday morning, followed by picnics or barbeques, Wednesday night Bible study, maybe dinner or bowling. There was the five and dime, the drug store, the corner grocery. The milkman still came. There was still a paperboy on a bicycle, and girls wore dresses and jeans weren’t commonplace. The men went to the office in a hat with their suit and women looked stunning in victory rolls and red lipstick, gloves and hats and heels, as they carried those large flat purses. That what I love about old movies. They captured the essence of the American dream and gave it people the world over.
There is nothing wrong with both parents working, or all our advantages. But life was simpler then, even if many things are simpler now, life can be complex. Then you would have Sunday dinner. Supper with the family every night, ” And how was your day dear? “, and ” What did you do at school? ” It was not texting and twitter. Communication now depends on your typing. When have heard someone tell a good story. We read e- books, and that’s fine, too. But I like to hold my book and smell the library scent or the fresh, crisp, hot off the press edges. I like holding photographs, too.
The personal touch is better. It’s better to talk to someone in person than on the phone. And to hug someone rather wave at them on Skype. I am thankful for all the invention that make life easier. I don’t want to be beating clothes on a rock or standing over an ironing board, I can be busy enough. But we need to slow down turn off some the electronics, eat together, instead of microwaving pizza or crock pot left overs. Let’s slow down and let Jesus catch up to us and us to Him. He is what make a house a home.
Oh, and my house, nothing like this. I dreamed of a cottage type library for all my books and a large desk. I would have a huge living room with two white couches facing each other and a gas fireplace, a coupe of black and gold Old Hollywood chairs, and a grand piano. I always wanted my home to be filled with laughter and music, the true joy of the Lord, a husband who prayed with me and read with me and worshiped with me. A girl can dream can’t she?
Whether you live in and apartment or penthouse, house or mansion, shelter or sofa, you are never homeless along as Jesus is in your heart. If you give Him room, He will give you a home. Forever. Rebecca Jones