The Pulley Bone

 The Pulley Bone

When I was young, I had no idea what a Wishbone was.

I'm pretty sure I never heard that word used in our home - or at my school.

I guess that the first time that I ever heard anybody refer to a Wishbone was when I learned that it was the style of offense that Bear Bryant led the Crimson Tide to run against all of their opponents:  The Wishbone Offense.

It was only later in my life and education (even my Southern education) that I learned that a Wishbone was really what we called the Pulley Bone at the eating table (as opposed to the Dinning Table).

Modern butchers prepare a chicken for cooking and serving in a different way than it was prepared years ago in Southern kitchens. When fried chicken was placed on a platter and onto a country table in the past it was legs, thighs, breasts, a back, a neck, a gizzard, a neck, and a pulley bone. There were other parts to a chicken and other Moms and Grandmas and Aunts cooked different parts and cooked them in different ways - but that was basically a fried chicken plate when I was growing up. 

My Grandma Bain always called dibs on the chicken back - that was her piece of chicken.

Little Mama (my Mother's mother) liked the neck and the gizzard.  We always saved them for her.  I saw NO appeal at all for wanting the back (very little meat) or the neck (same) and the gizzard was like eating a fried shoe-tongue.

And, oh yes - chicken livers.

I had no fondness for them as a child.  They looked and smelled awful.  I don't think that I ever tried them.

I can eat my weight in them now.

 We didn't know at the time that what we called chicken wings actually came from a buffalo.

The pulley bone was a "Y" shaped bone and piece of meat at the base of a chicken's neck, just at the top of the breast bone. It was white meat.

We used to fight over who would get the pulley bone.  Mama would decide, or Little Mama.

Whoever got to eat the pulley bone got to pick someone else to pull it with him (or her).

Once all of the meat was gone from the forked piece - two people at the table would hook their little fingers on a side and both would pull at the same time . . . . while making a wish.  The bone would break and whoever held the smallest part after pulling - would ostensibly get their wish!

It was fun - it is a wonderful memory - but I have never been impressed by wishes and wishing. Whether it was a WISHbone or a just a plain ole pulley bone.

So, it is a matter of consternation to me - that the word "wish," somewhere along the way, has crept into my prayer language.

I tell the Lord that I wish that He would come back.

I tell Him that I wish that I was a better person.

I wish that I had more faith.

I wish that I was stronger.

I wish that He would help me, or help someone that I'm praying about.

I wish that things were different, or better.

I wish that it would rain.

I wish that it would stop raining!

And I know good and well that God pays no attention at all to wishes. Even the wishes of His Children.

I am ashamed that I have found that I wish alot in my prayers. 

I am working very hard to listen to myself to weed out this awful habit. I have confessed and apologized to God, and I'm trying to do better.  I know that it is just a figure of speech and it is one that I use without thinking - but when I talk to God I ought to think and use my words with intent.

I do not have the right nor do I deserve to ask the Lord for anything. There is no petition that I deserve of Him.

But He compels me to ASK . . . He DOESN'T want me to wish . . .

God is smart enough and wise enough not to promise to give me everything that I ask for. He is too Great to even take notice of my wishes.

Our Heavenly Father is not your Grandpa, or Santa Clause, a Genii, or a Pulley Bone.