As most of you know, I read a number of other blogs out in the ‘sphere. I read a post last night that had me thinking. I was still ruminating on it this morning. I began to write a comment. But when the comment ran to paragraphs, I realized I needed to keep the words in my own space! Will Sampson was writing about Wonderbread and the BreadofLife. He wrote about the difference between what our culture offers the poor and what the Body of Christ offers the poor. It’s very good and much of what I’ve written here is in response to that.

Here is an interesting (perhaps) data point on poverty. When LightGirl was quite small and LightBoy was born, I received WIC food coupons and support. WIC stands for Women, Infants and Children. It’s support for woment with small chilren and infants (obviously) in order to give children a healthy start in life. It’s based on the idea that good nutrition and a healthy home life can begin to break the cycle of poverty.

So, the food coupons from WIC are strictly monitored. If you look on your grocery store shelves you’ll see small icons in the cereal, dairy, legume and other sections that call attention to the WIC approved foods. The guidelines are pretty strict. Real cheese. Real tuna. Real peanutbutter.

I was recieving the coupons because we were trying to “make it” on LightHusband’s Army enlisted salary in metro DC. I still remember the relief I felt when I found I “had” to get real food with those coupons. My counselor was relieved because she didn’t have to argue with me. I also remember seeing other women in the store trying to argue their way out of getting the real food with the cashiers and the store managers. I’m always sad when I see this. They think they are getting more for their money, but in the end they are selling their futures for the present.

At the time, we lived in a neighborhood filled with people of like incomes. We all shopped at the same stores and were just barely scraping by on similar amounts of money each month. There was a group of women who would sit out on the front step in the afternoons and evenings to watch some of our children play and talk and provide support for each other. One of the men dubbed us the “Yentas.” I participated in that group and yet I was as alien to that group as if I’d come from Mars. I was loved and I loved them back, but they never quite understood me. And, try as I might, I never quite understood them. I’ve maintained at least one relationship since we moved.

Here were some of the things they could not understand. That it really was worth it to make real oatmeal for my kids. That it was about more than saving a few pennies on the oatmeal. That it’s worth it to make real cookies instead of buying “Little Debbies,” or Hostess … even when they’re on sale. The real cookies cost less and they really are better for you. OR … and this dumfounded most of them. Perhaps it was okay to not have cookies at all. Primarily, what I was trying to instill in my children was the idea that some things are worth waiting for. And I had to begin with food.

It’s suddenly hitting me that on a number of different levels, our cultural inability to manifest delayed gratification is responsible for obesity. This is a harsh commentary, but we can no more afford to support our population now than we could 100 years ago. We have merely created the means to make prettier food. Is it really healthier to hand out Wonderbread and pasteurized-processed-cheese-product than gruel?