In today’s world, where convenience reigns king, we are less inclined to think of preserving food as a means of survival than our predecessors might have been. Food is easily obtained and easily wasted, while growing and preserving our own food has become less of a need and more of a hobby. 

Several years ago, through the mismanagement and perhaps even dishonesty of someone my husband trusted, we found ourselves in severe financial straights. Covid shutdowns had wreaked havoc on the the Canadian economy and for months we were without income. Our freezers emptied and shelves of canned goods disappeared with alarming rapidity as we learned to make do with the edibles at hand.

Everything went wrong that winter. Our family vehicle broke down, our washer gave out and once that was fixed, our dryer sighed its last heated breath and died. Despite having paid our hydro bill, our power got cut due to a glitch in the hydro company’s computer system, and they couldn’t be bothered to turn it back on for five days, even though it was our only source of heat. Our beloved family dog was accused of killing a neighbour’s cow and there was no way we could prove otherwise, (perhaps the dog really did kill the cow, although none of us could imagine him doing so) so we took out a loan, paid for the cow, shot the dog, and spent weeks comforting our children and working to keep their hearts from becoming bitter toward a neighbour who was very possibly in the right.

Summer came, and I saw the world as I had never seen it before. Squirreling away food for the future took on a whole new meaning after having been unable to offer our children fruit or any vegetable other than potatoes for well over a month. Every green thing held potential for food or nutritional healing, as I soon discovered while pouring over volumes that elaborated on the local flora.

We boiled sap from our trees, watching in fascination as it turned from sweet “water” to sticky, amber syrup. I scoured the woods, ditches and fields for wild crafted herbs and flowers to dry, from which I mixed loose -leaf teas. Lavender was no longer a mere adornment in my herb garden;- it was boiled down into a lovely lavender syrup which I used to flavour drinks. I experimented with infusing what olive oil I had left in my cupboard with rosemary and found a new, favourite way to eat potatoes.

Picking wild blueberries, saskatoons, and raspberries inspired thankfulness to a degree I had never experienced before.  Gallons of Flu Tonic, consisting of things I had grown in my garden and ginger gifted by a friend, stood on my kitchen counter, fermenting in vinegar I had made from apple scraps. Just the sight of it inspired a level of thankfulness I had never before experienced.

A dear friend, whose family owned a strawberry business, had an unusually long season that year and offered us as many free berries as the children and I could pick. I don’t know if she’ll ever know what a gift that was!

That year was the only year I have ever been able to find both apples and grapes, free for the taking. One lady just wanted her apples cleaned up and taken off her hands.  Another was moving into town from the farm they had lived on for years. She had picked all her grapes, (3 banana boxes, piled high!) but didn’t want to bother with them in the shuffle of moving. Her only request for payment was that I bring her a dozen quarts of the finished juice.  I was only too happy to comply! The best part about it was, I had told the Lord about our need for grape juice. We had always provided it for communion services, and while I knew I could ask our other elder’s wife to take over for the time being, I thought I’d give God a chance first. This was His answer.

My garden  flourished that year like it never had before. It became my hallowed spot. A place where I met Jesus to thank Him for His tender care for us. 

That summer and autumn stands apart in my memory as one some of the best of my life. Necessity demanded I slow down enough to discover the edible plants in our region, something I had never taken time to do since moving to the True North. The children and I gained valuable knowledge we may have never acquired if life had continued on its comfortable course and the satisfaction we felt when our forages proved successful, was unparalleled. 

Above all, I will always cherish the memories of all the beautiful ways God took care of us when we had nothing left. Yes, we carefully planned how far each tank of gas would go and how best to use it wisely, but just when we thought we wouldn’t have enough fuel to accept a dinner invitation, someone from church would send an unexpected e-transfer.  

Necessity may have forced us to pull our children from their music lessons mid-term, but each time it looked like we might lose our mortgaged house to the bank, an anonymous envelope would show up in the offering box, earmarked for us and containing exactly what we needed for that month’s bills.  

Our meat freezer may have been down to one or two meals, but just as we were about to embrace vegetarianism, along came a church brother with two huge boxes of homegrown, frozen chicken because, “We butchered too many yesterday. They don’t fit in our freezer.”

Months of not stepping foot inside a grocery store had left our pantry shelves depleted of staples, but a friend of my husband’s called saying he had just gotten a shipment of outdated groceries, and he would be honoured if we would come take what we wanted before he sold it. 

It was humbling,; this thing of receiving endlessly from others, knowing full well we would never be able to repay their generosity. It was also beautiful and faith-strengthening to see God using the hands and feet of our local church and friends to provide just what we needed most. 

I have never been very good at graciously receiving gifts of time and money. I love giving and have generally found myself on that end of the spectrum. However, having been thrust into a position of needing to graciously and humbly receive from others, not once, nor twice, but multiple times for two consecutive years, taught me more about the provision and character of God and the beauty of His people, than any other experience of my life. 

What may have felt like privation at first, turned out to be one of the greatest privileges of my life. 

There are two ways to be rich; One is in the abundance of our possessions and the other is in the fewness of our wants. ~E. Stanley Jones