Things have a funny way of working out sometimes. I guess what I’m trying to say is that despite the math and the calculations, I haven’t starved to death. And I haven’t missed a bill or payment. (Well, except the one month I did forget and racked up a few Hamilton’s worth of interest and fees.) I haven’t fallen into homelessness. Which is remarkable because in this very (theoretically) scary time (financially speaking), I have been very (unpleasantly) surprised (I guess you could say blindsided) by financial, um, hiccups. The non-exhaustive list includes replacing struts on my car, extracting a tooth, euthanizing my dog, and hosting my dad post-stroke for a couple of weeks. Somehow, month after month of rent is paid. Meal after meal is eaten. Mile after mile is driven.
Besides the mandatory and/or obligatory fixed expenses. I’ve somehow been able to enjoy some really lovely luxuries. I’ve visited family across the country and treated myself to more than a few lattes and specialty ice creams. Three very hungry pets at home continue to eat good. And I eat good too. When I scratch my head and crunch the numbers, my tongue sticks out in concentration. Though the numbers don’t add up, by–I swear to you–the grace of God I have been provided for with more wealth and richness and luxury than I could imagine.
On a Tuesday afternoon, you could find me casting lines. Or longboarding down a back road. A Monday morning serving coffee to my favorite customers then headed to the lake. If I was really lucky I’d be tits-out in the garden, munching on fresh cucumber or a dirty radish. I adore a farmers market, a coffee shop, a garden, fresh flowers, a greenhouse, an orchard. Activities once reserved for a special Saturday morning are now my daily life. You know how the song goes. “This is what dreeeeaaams are made of.” Hey now. I’ve told you before and I’ll tell you again. Discomfort and I have a very intimate relationship. But dang. Is this the best day of your life or what?
Now back to what I was saying. My tooth extraction was paid in full, and several friends reached out to help with Jasper’s vet bills. Friends at the farmers market send me home with the best veggies. Gary always throws in a few extra bulbs of garlic or gives me the biggest pumpkin. My friends Tamara and Kyle shared their tractor and also invited me to so many meals I lost count. Given rides and gifts and “all [their] love”. Brittany paid for my plane ticket, and Ashly sent care packages. Mom shared some ice cream, and dad helped with groceries. I like to think I’m generous, but in comparison with this community I feel like a stingy rat guarding her last crumble of cheese. My freezer is full thanks to Bethany and Jake, and also another Gary. If you’re looking for a shout-out, you’ll have to keep looking, my guy, because the list is non-exhaustive. Karen helps with my phone bill. When I was bedridden and drenched in a fever-sweat, Kyle brought me drinks and a banana bar so good that it has its own theme song. Lauren drops off her secondhand items to me and gifted me the *cutest* purple Stanley that serves both hot and cold. Lisa gifted me the sweetest and also squeakiest doodle I’ve ever met in my life. Chewy comped my dog food when Jasper passed. Dave and Kate dropped off some dried peppers at my work the other day, and bone broth when I was sick and shared labor when I was well. This combination of community and divinity and what my first grade teacher would scold me for calling “luck” is an incredible testimony of the goodness in this world. Of the overwhelming generosity of the Lord.
I’m not trying to be dramatic or anything. Three years ago I was actively fighting urges to throw myself into traffic. Though I was blind to it, this goodness abounded even then. Ed and Diana tilled up gardens and shared strawberry starts. Wade and Daphna gave me a shovel and a whole slew of sweet potato slips. Ashly showered me with care packages (as is her nature). Brenda would pop over with a board game and a good time. Jill would share space with me and Keaton would cook me dinner.
It’s taken some practice to tolerate this goodness. Even more to wallow in it. Even more to expect it.
When I quit my job, I was so anxious. My therapist (GOD BLESS HER) was so freaking sweet. “Lynette, you take good care of yourself. You will not let yourself go hungry. There are so many people in this world who care about you and will take you in if you need it.” Her words have given me LIFE. Time after time and day after day I have been taken in and fed by an army of angels. You know who you are. And I can’t express my gratitude for it enough.
P.s. I deal with some very deeply rooted scarcity mentality. So I’ve got some overcoming to do. But I’m learning that when I’m generous, it comes back to me. And like a boomerang, stinginess comes back too. While I’m not giving extravagantly or even radically (though all giving is radical in the context of capitalism), I feel empowered to share my wealth and abundance and excess with trust that it will come back in abundance and excess. If you feel so inclined, treat a stranger to a nice thing. Pass along your Aldi quarter. Or let your partner have the last bite of pie. Pick up your co-worker’s favorite treat and bring it into the office. Try it. And tell me you didn’t have the best day of your life.