Feeling rich

I remember getting stamps for Christmas from my grandparents.  A coiled roll.  Of 100.  This was back in the 80s.  It was the ultimate gift, and I loved it.  I can’t imagine another teenager in the world anticipating that for Christmas.  My aunt still sends me some once in awhile; how does she know? Even now, I feel rich when I glance in the mail cupboard and see several little sheets of self-adhesive stamps.  Brand new stickers hiding out in their little cellophane envelope.  Options wide open.  I can write a letter to the editor, send my sister some recipes, write a little note to a friend who moved away, pop a congratulations on an accomplishment in the mail, or send off a get well, birthday or gift card..  Anything is possible.  I’m totally rich.

I also feel rich when I see the needle is closer to the F than the E on the gas gauge.  I feel again like I have all sorts of options.  I can go anywhere.  I don’t have to worry about the cost of gas for at least a few days because I don’t have to fill up anytime soon.  I sigh with contentedness.  The temps can drop to -20 and I’ll have enough gas to let the engine idle for a good 15 minutes to warm up.  I can make it into town and back a few more times.

I know, an unusual way to ascertain my wealth.  But by this point you know I’m a little unconventional, and you also know I’m telling you the truth.

Our kids occasionally question why we are so weird compared to some of their other friends.  Why we don’t go on as many trips or have as many fun toys.  We talk about money and their concerns pretty openly.  Todd’s used Monopoly money to illustrate a normal month’s expenses for family night.  They were out of paper bills before the month ran out.  Love a good teaching moment.  We try to teach them to have a realistic approach to consumerism and materialism, to look for good quality but to curb their covetings.  We’re just a regular family—we’re not that great at any of this.  We try to share our values while encouraging them to tell us how they see it.  But we try to always point out about how very, very rich we are.  We have running water, a warm house, opportunities for good education, our faith, our friends, our relatives and each other.  We are among the wealthiest people on the earth.  They sometimes roll their eyes.  But if there’s been a hard little patch for a friend or family we can share with them in some way, I sense they understand what we’re talking about, that we have it so good, that things could be so much worse.  To just be grateful for all that we have.  We have so very much to be thankful for.

I feel rich when we’re all home for the night.  When we’re gathered around the fireplace, not because we’re having a meeting, but just because we all ended up here.  Maybe someone’s reading.  Another one’s having a snack.  Mostly just talking about life, cuddled up in different bundles.  Maybe someone will make popcorn.  There’s almost always music in the background.  I also feel it when we’re gathered around the table and have fresh food from the garden.  Or when Todd’s home and I see him working with a kid in the yard.  We are so abundantly blessed.

I feel rich when we call up friends at the last minute to come hang out.  We are so blessed to have found people we can connect with and raise our family with, especially since our extended family is no closer than a day’s drive in any direction.  I feel rich to have a committed husband.  I realize every marriage has its issues, but we hang in there.  We are so very, very blessed to have been able to live together and raise kids together.  I feel especially rich sitting at church all together as a family on the pew.  I know that sounds old-fashioned, but I mean it.  Peace like that can’t be bought.

It doesn’t take much.  A few stamps, a warm bed, some gas in the car, being with people I love.  Think about what makes you feel rich.  If you’re honest with yourself I’d wager that it’s not what those fluff magazines are pushing.  It’s not about the trips, clothes, cars or houses they hype.  It’s the tiniest things like my grandma knowing all I longed for was a few stamps, a walk to a waterfall with my family, a long talk with a close friend, feeling connected with my teen sons, cuddling on the couch with my 8 year-old, games on Sunday night with ice cream, watching them learning new things; it’s the little stuff that the glossy papers don’t usually advertise that makes me feel like one of the richest women in the world.