Thursday evening I was invited to a dinner meeting for the board of directors of the nonprofit for which I write grants. I'm on staff, not on the board, but they wanted the staff members and the board members to get to know each other. Wow. I so did not belong there. Driving to the house, I realized I was in a different world. The road on which she lives is one of the fanciest in the area--one full of old money. The houses were huge, the cars were expensive, and the properties back up against the lake. I parked my very basic, non-loaded minivan on the street and walked up the path to the house. I was met in the driveway by one of the board members, a lady I've met a few times but wouldn't necessarily consider a friend. She and the hostess are friends, and she had obviously been here before. She walked in the front door without even stopping to ring the bell. We entered a huge foyer and into a big beautiful home. Inside I saw some faces that I recognized and two that I did not. I was immediately introduced to one lady I did not know, but another gentleman just stood in the corner not talking to anyone. I thought it was odd, but, well, I'm just too shy to run up to someone and thrust my hand out in introduction. It was a little uncomfortable though. Someone should really introduce this guy to someone so he doesn't have to stand there alone. Anyone? The hostess announced that we were all present and should make our way to the dining area to eat. The man from the corner offers to get me something to drink. Weird. No one even introduced us, and now he is getting my drink? "No, thanks!" I said. I poured myself a glass of water. Then I notice that the man is getting other people drinks. Oh, crap. He's the freaking waiter. There are 8 of us here, and we have a waiter. Seriously? Oh, yes. The meal has been catered, and there is a waiter.
Suddenly I become very self-conscious. I look down at my Target shirt and Wal-Mart pants and feel a surge of embarrassment. I am instantly grateful that I bought those shoes at the consignment store. Even though they weren't new, they're at least a name brand. I wish there was some way to wear the shoes higher on my body. I considered dangling them from my ears. Why, oh why, didn't I wear my big fake diamond earrings tonight? I began to scan the other guests--3 carat diamond ring, expensive leather handbag, designer clothes, trendy haircut. Even the men were well-dressed and clean-cut. I scan the house. Beautiful pool overlooking the lake which runs right along the backyard. Ridiculously high ceilings. So many doors I forgot which one I came in. Fancy drapes which match the fancy furniture. Professionally decorated everything. Everything is beautiful, fancy, expensive. I imagined what it would be like to live here. What would this life be like? I assume that they have a perfect life to go along with this perfect house. And I want it. I'm just being honest here. I wanted the sparkly pool and the lakeside property and the Cherokee Boulevard address. I wanted the face lift and the big diamonds and the artificial laugh for jokes that aren't funny. I wanted it the whole night. I wished my handbag wasn't old and worn out. I wished my shoes weren't scuffed. I wish my clothes weren't from a discount store. I wished my diamonds weren't fake. I wished my house wasn't amateurly decorated and landscaped. Even as I walked to my car I wasn't done. I wished my car wasn't the cheapest minivan on the market. I wished it started when I pushed a button on my key chain. I wished my dinner tomorrow would be served by waiter. I got to my car and opened my embarrassing purse to pull out the keys to my embarrassing car and suddenly felt...well, embarrassed. But this time for a different reason. Inside my purse I saw a spit rag, a rattle, and a pacifier. See, I wouldn't trade purses with anyone in that house. While it may not contain loads of cash and cards with high limits, mine contains cracker crumbs and other artifacts from the most wonderful people I know. I am wealthy. My bank statement may not agree, but I am wealthy. My dictionary says that wealthy means "characterized by abundance." That's me. I have so much. I have a beautiful house (on a much smaller scale than the one I visited). I have a car that I love (because it meets all of our needs and has never given me an ounce of trouble). I have clothes for all occasions (purchased mostly from Wal-Mart and Target and consignment stores). But most of all I have a husband who loves me, and I have 3 children who are amazing. I could very well have spent my whole night focused on what I don't have. There are certainly enough things to fill a night thinking over them. Opening my purse and seeing my baby's belongings helped me to remember what God says about all this. Exodus 20:17. Click on that. Read it; I'll wait. Did you read it? There it is. God's 10th commandment in plain English. And I broke it. I didn't just break it--I shattered it. Envy is one of The Enemy's most powerful tools. I let him into my life a little bit Thursday evening. I let him take up residence in my heart and fill me with greed and discontentment. I let him cloud my judgement and turn me into someone I didn't even recognize. And I'm embarrassed. And I'm sorry.
I won't lie to you and say that I haven't thought about that evening with the smallest (er, maybe not smallest) bit of jealousy since that night. I won't lie to you and tell you that I won't ever look at what I don't have and feel greedy. I won't lie to you and tell you that contentment comes naturally to me. But I will tell you that I'm in prayer about this. I'm asking God to help me with it. I'm asking God to help me remember how lucky I am. I'm asking God to keep my eyes on my wealth and not on others'. I'm asking God to fill my heart so full with His love that there isn't room for the other guy. It's hard. But it's so worth it.
Showing posts with label contentment. Show all posts
Showing posts with label contentment. Show all posts
Monday, October 6, 2008
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
When Nothing Adds Up to Something
Last year my MOPS group had a great speaker who talked with us about sin. In her talk, she made the point that Satan tells us that we are not satisfied with our lives so that we'll seek out what we're missing. The irony is that in seeking for what's "missing" we actually lose what we already had--a close relationship with God. Our greed takes over and separates us from Him. Sounds a lot like the situation in the Garden of Eden, no? She used a word that buzzed around in my head all summer: contentment. "Be content with your lives," she warned.
And so I set out to be content. It lasted about 2 hours. Then I drove home and saw that my neighbor had hired a professional landscaper, and her yard looked awesome. Oooh...I want that too. Then I opened the refrigerator and discovered that I had all the ingredients for a perfectly nice chicken dinner but lacked the motivation to put it together, so I took my family out to dinner, where we ordered chicken much like what I was going to prepare but a lot more expensive. And so went the summer.
A couple of weeks ago my minister preached on contentment. It just so happened that it was the first Sunday that my 6 month old baby has ever stayed in the nursery happily for the entire service. I sat uncomfortably in my pew feeling as though he was talking right to me. "You fool, you didn't at all do what you promised yourself you would do," he said--but not in those words.
Then Mary (of Owlhaven.net) wrote about the 30 Days of Nothing. For the month of September she and her family swear off all unnecessary expenses. There are no rules, exactly. The idea is to decide what is necessary to your family. She has her reasons for doing this project, but I won't recap them all here. Go to her site if you want to get the whole scoop. When I first read about it I thought that it sounded interesting, but I had no intention of joining in.
Near the end of August I ran into Target to pick up a few things on our shopping list. You should know that I'm a Target-junkie. I enter with full intentions to buy 1 tube of toothpaste and a box of dish washing soap, and I reach the counter with $72 worth of treasures. Every time. It's a sickness. My kids have discovered the Dollar Zone. It's chock-full of junky toys that, because they only cost $1, Mama will purchase. So, we enter the store and immediately fill our cart with about 9 toys from the Dollar Zone. Then we make our way around the store and eventually end up at the counter with--yes--$70-something worth of items. I swear, I should go on The Price is Right because I can hit that $70-something mark with my eyes closed. But the story doesn't end here. No, I got home and realized that, despite the fact that I brought home approximately $50 in things that were NOT on the list, I managed to miss one necessary item that was ON the list. So, we head back to Target, mere hours from our last trip. But I'm no dummy. I knew my husband would not be pleased with two big receipts from Target in one day, and I also knew that my kids would not willingly leave the store without their precious Dollar Zone toys (never mind that I already bought every one that they wanted that morning). So, I had a chat with them in the car on the way there. "We are NOT buying toys this time. We just bought some this morning. We are NOT buying a slushy or popcorn. We are NOT buying candy in the checkout aisle." Whine, whine, whine. Well, at least we're clear on the rules. We enter. And it starts. Can-we-gets galore. "No, we are not buying another punch balloon simply because you popped yours this afternoon." "No, we are not buying a pretzel, even though your offer to share it with your brother was most noble." "No, we are not buying cat food. We don't even have a cat!" This is out of control. I went home fuming. My children are spoiled brats. How did that happen? I was reminded of exactly how that happened when I got home and tripped over 35 cars, 22 balls, and 3 huge boxes of Lego's all spilled across the floor. They want more because I've taught them to want more. Yikes. We're SO doing the 30 Days of Nothing.
So, for our family, what is necessary? We haven't exactly pinned that down yet. I think that, rather than sitting down and drawing up rules for the month, we'll just play it by ear and see what we decide we need and what we decide we can do without. I feel certain that we'll purchase things that someone else would deem frivolous. My goal here is not deprivation. My goal is for us to become aware of how very well we have been blessed and, hopefully, find some contentment with our lives.
Today we went to the library for story time (as we do every Wednesday) and saw a couple of the boys' friends there. The boys wanted to go to lunch with their friends, but I was firm that we were eating lunch at home today. We made sandwiches and ate on the back porch and then played on their swing set. It was wonderful. And, for just a few minutes, I felt content.
And so I set out to be content. It lasted about 2 hours. Then I drove home and saw that my neighbor had hired a professional landscaper, and her yard looked awesome. Oooh...I want that too. Then I opened the refrigerator and discovered that I had all the ingredients for a perfectly nice chicken dinner but lacked the motivation to put it together, so I took my family out to dinner, where we ordered chicken much like what I was going to prepare but a lot more expensive. And so went the summer.
A couple of weeks ago my minister preached on contentment. It just so happened that it was the first Sunday that my 6 month old baby has ever stayed in the nursery happily for the entire service. I sat uncomfortably in my pew feeling as though he was talking right to me. "You fool, you didn't at all do what you promised yourself you would do," he said--but not in those words.
Then Mary (of Owlhaven.net) wrote about the 30 Days of Nothing. For the month of September she and her family swear off all unnecessary expenses. There are no rules, exactly. The idea is to decide what is necessary to your family. She has her reasons for doing this project, but I won't recap them all here. Go to her site if you want to get the whole scoop. When I first read about it I thought that it sounded interesting, but I had no intention of joining in.
Near the end of August I ran into Target to pick up a few things on our shopping list. You should know that I'm a Target-junkie. I enter with full intentions to buy 1 tube of toothpaste and a box of dish washing soap, and I reach the counter with $72 worth of treasures. Every time. It's a sickness. My kids have discovered the Dollar Zone. It's chock-full of junky toys that, because they only cost $1, Mama will purchase. So, we enter the store and immediately fill our cart with about 9 toys from the Dollar Zone. Then we make our way around the store and eventually end up at the counter with--yes--$70-something worth of items. I swear, I should go on The Price is Right because I can hit that $70-something mark with my eyes closed. But the story doesn't end here. No, I got home and realized that, despite the fact that I brought home approximately $50 in things that were NOT on the list, I managed to miss one necessary item that was ON the list. So, we head back to Target, mere hours from our last trip. But I'm no dummy. I knew my husband would not be pleased with two big receipts from Target in one day, and I also knew that my kids would not willingly leave the store without their precious Dollar Zone toys (never mind that I already bought every one that they wanted that morning). So, I had a chat with them in the car on the way there. "We are NOT buying toys this time. We just bought some this morning. We are NOT buying a slushy or popcorn. We are NOT buying candy in the checkout aisle." Whine, whine, whine. Well, at least we're clear on the rules. We enter. And it starts. Can-we-gets galore. "No, we are not buying another punch balloon simply because you popped yours this afternoon." "No, we are not buying a pretzel, even though your offer to share it with your brother was most noble." "No, we are not buying cat food. We don't even have a cat!" This is out of control. I went home fuming. My children are spoiled brats. How did that happen? I was reminded of exactly how that happened when I got home and tripped over 35 cars, 22 balls, and 3 huge boxes of Lego's all spilled across the floor. They want more because I've taught them to want more. Yikes. We're SO doing the 30 Days of Nothing.
So, for our family, what is necessary? We haven't exactly pinned that down yet. I think that, rather than sitting down and drawing up rules for the month, we'll just play it by ear and see what we decide we need and what we decide we can do without. I feel certain that we'll purchase things that someone else would deem frivolous. My goal here is not deprivation. My goal is for us to become aware of how very well we have been blessed and, hopefully, find some contentment with our lives.
Today we went to the library for story time (as we do every Wednesday) and saw a couple of the boys' friends there. The boys wanted to go to lunch with their friends, but I was firm that we were eating lunch at home today. We made sandwiches and ate on the back porch and then played on their swing set. It was wonderful. And, for just a few minutes, I felt content.
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