Hook, Line, and Sinker

     We're hooked. Like a catfish swinging from a noodler's elbow, we bit the bait and to our dismay we ended up with nothing but a man's hairy arm. Okay, so I am stretching the analogy a bit. I am referring to the infamous McDonald's Monopoly Game. Scandalously elusive game pieces tempt and taunt consumers with whispers of cash rewards, trips, free movie rentals, and food coupons. Buyer beware. The chances of winning these tantalizing  prizes are as illusory as a white elephant in a snow storm. Our experience started one day last week when Blake, on his way home from worked called me. Those dangerous words rang in my ears and whet my appetite for an easy greasy supper.
Blake: "What are we doing for dinner? I have been craving McDonald's all day."
Jennifer: "I don't know. Want to pick some up on your way home?"
And thus ensued our spiraling free fall into the abyss of sweepstakes gaming.
   
     Our meal that night included several Monopoly game pieces. The next day, during Lily's hospital tests, we ate lunch at the McDonald's on site. You guessed it. More game pieces. So far, we have won several free food items and we are the proud owners of every set of pieces on the board with the exception of a singular game piece in each category. Today, my excitement over a possible prize was drowned out by an article I read that confirmed my suspicion; each of the game pieces we need is a "rare" piece, the last of its kind. The odds are against our favor. Some of them are as slim as 1 in 500,000 or more. Hopeless? Perhaps not. Yet, certainly not likely. McDonald's Monopoly game ends October 22. Until then, I cannot pretend that in the coming weeks I will not be drawn to those golden arches in search of that "golden ticket," but hopefully a little wiser for the wear.

     I should explain at this point that riches and wealth don't solve all problems, though they can ease the sting of student loans and self sacrifice. But I was raised among Southern grandparents who lived through lean years and meager tables and who knew the pride of hard labor and the value of every dime. In their houses at Christmas, we unpacked stockings filled with fresh apples, oranges, and quarters, nickels, or dimes. The farther removed I become from my childhood and the frugality of my grandparents, the swifter I find my mind caught up in the rat race. Spinning hamsters' wheels and mazes of mice seem to endlessly spin and zigzag. Such is the way of chasing after riches, ever elusive, just beyond your grasp. I hope that I can sustain the legacy of frugality and humility that the generations before me so carefully practiced, clinging to Christ and His provisions rather than chasing after a quick dollar. God is enough. He is our Portion, the Creator, Sustainer and Owner of all things. Our Shepherd will supply our needs. We need to but ask and wait, enjoying the gifts, from the changing leaves to the sleepy sunsets, He so graciously bestows on us.