Two Things Homemakers of the Past Expected That Maybe We Should, Too

Mamaw never fell for the lie that a boxed cake mix was "homemade"

The more I write about my Mamaw, the more I see glimpses of her all around me. The natural nostalgia of aging, coupled with my focus on remembering bits of her wisdom as I go about my day, has given me some interesting thoughts to ponder as of late. Yesterday, as I checked items of my to-do list, I got to thinking about the expectations of modern homemakers. We’re an interesting bunch. Shaped primarily by working women, we are rediscovering the neglected arts of purposefully raising children, building pantries of real food, and finding the rhythm of life God has called us to. We're finding out that what we were told doesn’t always ring true, and that maybe how things have been done in recent history aren’t necessarily the best way. It’s an uncomfortable process for many, because it involves shaking off so many expectations and embracing some norm-challenging truths, like:

Putting food on the table is a time investment.

Prepackaged foods had existed long before the mid-century, but their production and availability exploded in the 1950s. Their reception had been tepid up until that point, however. Consider the boxed cake mix. It’s first introduction wasn’t via box at all; in 1935, the dough came in a can, already wet and mixed and ready for the home baker to spoon into a cake pan and slide into the oven. The company discovered that consumers preferred the flavor of fresh eggs, and reformulated. But the sales didn’t pick up as expected, so tinkering continued. It wasn’t until the manufacturers got savvy to the fact that homemakers viewed the product as too big of a shortcut that they created the ubiquitous boxed mix most rely on today. Requiring the addition of butter or lard, water, and eggs hit the sweet because the woman in the kitchen actually felt like she should put in some work to feed her family. Opening a can and saying she had “made” it seemed to say that she lacked skills or, worse, that she didn’t view her family as being worth the time spent sourcing the best ingredients and being part in the age-old process of provision.

As convenience appliances for the home— dishwashers, microwave ovens— spread mid-century and made the overall work load lighter, though, processed foods gained new attention. Time saving took priority over, well, just about everything. Shaving precious minutes off of food prep became a point of pride rather than shame, and the woman who could pull off a meal in minutes was praised much more than the one who foolishly clung to the idea of, say, peeling her own potatoes.

While there are definitely some “done in minutes!” meals that feature real food and don’t rely on bits and bobs from packets and boxes (I myself will be putting a pot roast, potatoes, carrots, and onions in my crockpot this morning), the majority of them are going to need to a few steps to coax from ingredients on the counter to dinner on the table. Mamaw didn’t bat an eye at this; none of her fellow homemakers would have. They saw providing food for their family as part of their God-given role, and just as they wouldn’t have dreamed of asking for a shortcut in attending a worship service, they didn’t assume that cooking was something to be done with a focus on speed over quality, either. Learning this— and living it— is a huge stumbling block to today’s homemaker. While many have been wrapped up in the notion of “slow living” in terms of trendy food preps like sourdough and ferments, the idea of fully scratch-made meals is daunting. Why? Because it takes time and it takes skills, and we’re convinced we have neither of them.

The window of real free time should be spent in things that feed your soul.

When I look back on how Mamaw spent her free time, it stands in stark contrast to how most women spend theirs today. The difference is obvious on the surface, but goes deeper than you might expect. No, Mamaw didn’t have a cell phone. Even though she didn’t pass until 2014, she never owned one. “Scrolling” wasn’t in her vocabulary. For most homemakers today, a down moment means reaching for a phone and checking in on the world outside the walls of her own home. That idea would have been utterly foreign to previous generations, and the effects show that we’d likely be better off taking cues from their pre-scree habits.

Mamaw had several modes of free time refresh, but two stand out. The first was reading Scripture. In a longer lull (much more frequent as she aged) she would return to her favorite chair, pick up her Bible, and read for a moment. Then she’d lean her head back, close her eyes, and pray for a quiet moment. If she had a shorter period of time to fill, Mamaw would reach into her apron pocket and pull out a scrap of paper she’d written a few verses on. I don’t know how often she changed these out, but I know there was always at least one to be found in those magical pockets full of bobby pins and thread and twist ties and matches. Usually these were verses she was attempting to memorize, but sometimes they were ones that she had identified as a help in whatever challenge she was facing.

Another thing Mamaw did was sew. She loved the act of sewing more than the actual projects, I think. While some might have considered this work (especially since she made practical things, like clothing and quilts) she didn’t. It was a hobby that happened to be practical, not the other way around. Homemakers in past generations, unable to bring the world in to their homes as a distraction as freely as we can today, often found pursuits like these and were able to be creative while engaging in a kind of stillness that is almost nonexistent today.

I’m not going to go over how soul draining and ultimately exhausting scrolling can be. We all know that we’d be better served finding other outlets, but we have no real expectation of doing so because it’s just so pervasive and normative. As I’ve thought about what Mamaw gained by filling her moments of quiet with things that fed her soul and brought her peace, though, I’ve been convicted to make sure I’m doing the same. Instead of assuming I’ll feel every bit as worn out after a 20 minute break as I did before, I want to have Mamaw’s expectation: a short break is enough to fuel me for the work ahead, because I used that time to refill my cup, rather than to spill out more of what gives me joy.

Both of these expectations fly in the face of what we’re told life is. But are we any happier for it? Are we a greater church, a better society for having “progressed” beyond these things that were once so normal? I don’t think we are. Mamaw wouldn’t, either.

In Christ,

Heather