I’m
finding myself drawn to minimalist living these days – not that I’m a
minimalist by any stretch, good gracious no. I can’t afford it.
But I am attracted to simple
living and have been for a while.
My interest originally stemmed years ago, from reading Fr. Thomas Dubay’s
book, Happy Are You Poor. I
was convicted by it and began de-cluttering the extraneous-ness going on in our
lives. I asked myself why I was
keeping
what we owned when so many in the world suffered want of basic needs – like
the box almost entirely full of pens, most of which didn’t work anymore, the
ball of elastics that used to belong to my grandmother, three watches when I
only wore one. I chucked
most of it and felt good about it.
Last year I read The Life Changing Art of Tidying, and “Kon-Mari”-ed the
crap out of the stuff we had left, much to my husband’s occasional chagrin. (“Honey, where’s my favourite shirt?” Uh, oops!) This past year I gathered together
the bits and pieces we were storing in different places and disposed of it all. There were no more unopened boxes
sitting around or unneeded items jumbling up our living space.
And
then we moved again. And our lives
took several unexpected turns, and money became scarce. (Well, when isn’t it, really?) With the incoming just about
matching the outgoing, daily life has now been marked by a conscious, forced
minimalism. And it’s not all bad,
even though I’ve become noticeably enamored with stuff now that our budget has
no wiggle room - much more than I was when things were different. Now, I want to buy big things, little
things, ALL the things. I liken it
to fasting and abstinence days when you’re looking at a crust of bread, and all
you can think about is a big, juicy hamburger with a side order of onion rings
and a milkshake the size of your head.
Well, now that things are tight, I think about buying expensive cleaning
products, updated clothing, markers, books, tea, appliances – you name it, I
want it.
And
yet, I can’t have any of it. I
tell myself I’ll get all this stuff when x, y and z happen, but they don’t,
they haven’t and perhaps they won’t ever happen. And in my more introspective moments, I’m okay with it. I’m more than okay. In fact, I’m really good with it all.
Because I look around me and see a comfortable
home, food enough to feed us for weeks, a closet bursting at the seams with
clothes and shoes, and enough friends, family and Love to sink a battleship…everything
I need and more! I once read a
quote from somebody I can’t find now – when you feel deprived, increase your
deprivation. This works. Who hasn’t had the stomach flu, eating
nothing but crackers and Gatorade for a week, and afterwards had the most
AMAZING pot roast dinner? I still
can’t remember anything tasting as good as those beef and potatoes I ate after
that awful flu over 15 years ago. More
often than not we have an overabundance – much more than what we need - especially
compared to a good portion of the world’s population. But we’re unable (or unwilling) to see it, choosing only to
see what we don’t have. Deprivation,
of even the smallest kinds, affords us a birds-eye view of our actual needs,
and pushes us to realize that we often could do with much less (and that things
could be way worse than they are).
Life
on the cheap has also been drawing my undivided attention to the exceptional
beauty of our world and an overwhelming gratitude for the little things, like dive-bombing
hummingbirds, the warmth and freedom of sunlight and fresh air, perfectly sweet
apples off the tree in the backyard, scrabble games with the famjam, or
chatting over tea with friends. I
haven’t started a gratitude journal yet, but it’s on my list. Right above take a nap, and right under
get a job.
The
best thing though, the one thing I’m most grateful for in all of this, and have
the hardest time with, is the deeper trust that the unanticipated requires me
to have in the Lord. “Pray, Hope
and Don’t Worry” aren’t just trite, meaningless words St. Pius of Pietrelcina
said for no reason. It’s a direct
order. PRAY! HOPE! And for the love of all that’s holy, stop worrying. Easy, peasy, right? I tell myself how easy it is when I’m
tithing our last $5, or when the dishwasher AND stove together decide to freak
out a little bit. I know that the
Lord DOES provide. I have story
after story of his astonishing and careful provision for my family and me. But I have a notoriously bad memory for
his works in my life. (Yet another
reason to start a gratitude journal, eh?)
So
why, I frequently ask, can’t the Lord get us out of the pickle we’re in? What? And ruin the strides in trust issues that I’m making? What would be the point of that? Going back to depending on myself, on
my stuff and on money? Thank you
but no. I’ll take forced
minimalism over misguided autonomy any day. Scary?
Yes. But if it weren’t for
the happy hardships, I’d be missing out on whole facets of my extraordinarily
unremarkable life, which frankly, I don’t care to overlook anymore. So I shall continue to say, “Blessed be the name of the Lord”
and really mean it.
I loved this! I've lived this, over and over in various ways in various decades, beginning with wonderful early married years when we juggled college classes and jobs and borrowed a bike because we couldn't afford a car (or a bike). I, who'd grown up where I could have ice cream and candy every night for dessert ... yes, I was spoiled.. had to get used to one piece of fruit as a bedtime snack, and oh my. No fruits have ever tasted sweeter! Now things are tight again in retirement, and I laughed out loud at your mention of cleaning products and updated clothing. I went on a spree yesterday and splurged on SIX new pair of "updated" white sox (exactly like my old white sox except new), and a spray bottle of cleaner that I hope will make my kitchen smell like fresh cut oranges. I am thrilled with such luxuries.... and I'm not kidding - I absolutely am!!!
ReplyDeleteOh Nancy, a couple of months ago I'd say...really? But now, I totally get it. It's true. I dream about expensive cleaners and a new sweater or two. It's all good! :)
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