To be continued?

But I do want to find time to blog because, truthfully, here in the 'burbs, I feel a constant tension between wanting to focus on those priorities and the societal pressures that push us towards materialism and consumerism. 

My husband has half joked over the years that he wants our family to be a self-contained unit.  I love family time as much as the next person.  But we need to be involved in community and have friends, so we cannot be completely self-contained.

But because of the pushes towards materialism and consumerism, I do wonder periodically if we should be living elsewhere.  But where?

Sometimes I think we should trade our big, modern, HOA-governed house in a well-planned neighborhood for a home in an older, more modest neighborhood.  I have even identified neighborhoods and looked at real estate listings.  But those houses tend to be smaller.  We need a certain amount of space because we homeschool and are in the process of adopting again.  I'd love a smaller home for the upkeep, but it will be a while until we are out of the child-rearing stage and can downsize like that.

Sometimes I think we should move to a rural home and homestead.  But then I remember I am terrified of snakes and scorpions, and I've never even successfully gardened.  Plus all the extra driving would be so time-consuming.  And there are amenities we love about living in part of a large metropolitan area.  We are heavy users of the library system--both participating in activities and checking out books and other media.  And this year, my kids and I have explored the performing arts more.  I found frugal ways to get us to the symphony, opera and ballet.  Very fun!  I don't want to leave those things behind.

And to be honest, I am so tired of moving.  I've moved a fair amount in my life and now I just want to stay put.  I want to bloom where I am planted currently.  I do dream of retiring to a little condo with my hubby some day when we are empty nesters.  But for now, the big house in the 'burbs is the best fit.

So, for better or worse, I foresee being in this house for quite a while.  And I need to ever improve my ability to resist the pressures towards materialism and consumerism.  I'm sure I'm not the only one struggling in that regard!

Has it been that long?

So, blogging is not my top priority in life.  (Surprise, surprise!)  And this is a blog about voluntary simplicity, which makes me feel like I should never stress about fitting in time to write.  But, wow!  Has it really been over a year since I posted?!  Yikes.

What have I been doing in that time? 

Raising my kids.

Dealing with some health issues (mine and other family members).

Traveling.

Volunteer work.

Blogging is not my top priority, but those things are: family, wellness, travel and helping others.  Anything else is a cherry on top!


 

Keeping Up With the Joneses

A couple years ago at my church, our pastor had a woman in our congregation give a talk about her family's struggles to get their finances under control.  At the time, our community had been hard hit by the Great Recession.  Many were out of work.  So many had lost or were going to lose their homes.  Times were rough.  Our congregation offers Dave Ramsey's Financial Peace University, a course on money management.  The talk was intended to encourage others to take the course to get on better footing financially.

I remember when the woman was giving her talk, she shared that her family had spent more than they needed to on a fancy home, nice cars and nice clothes.  The pastor interrupted and asked her why they had spent more than they should have on such things.  Without any need to reflect, the woman said it was a case of "keeping up with the Joneses."  In other words, they had felt social pressure to spend money on things to appear affluent and comfortable. 

I was stunned by this response.  This woman and her family seemed so self-assured.  They were people of great faith.  I was shocked that such people would care what the Joneses--or anyone else thought about them.

But I've thought about it over the years, and am no longer shocked.  It is human nature for us to care what others think about us.  In our culture, we don't like people to think we are poor, suffering economically or not able to afford whatever we want.  We don't want to be pitied.  And we want to fit in. 

Particularly here in the 'burbs, we often have a distorted sense of others' finances.  We often think that others are doing better than they are.  They have nice things, go nice places.  So we figure they must be doing well financially. 

But if the Great Recession has taught my husband and me anything, it was to not believe the facades we were shown.  To recognize facades are not an accurate representation of reality.  When the economy tanked, we were shocked that people had misrepresented being laid off.  We were shocked at all the people in our social circle who lost their homes.  At one point, it seemed like almost everyone we knew was impacted by the economic collapse. 

I like to think that I am mature and secure enough that I don't care what others think about me and my family.  Maybe I don't obsess about it, but I am not immune to it.  And in the 'burbs where everyone is putting up facades and trying to show they are living the good life, it can be awkward and even embarrassing when you choose to live a different way and not spend like everyone else.  And I think that type of awkwardness and embarrassment is why many keep on spending instead of choosing a different lifestyle that might enable them to live a more fulfilling life.

For this reason, I'm starting a new series called "Keeping Up With the Joneses."  The point of posts in this series will be for me to share concrete examples of situations where my family and I have felt social pressures to spend money, and to describe how we have (or have not) overcome such social pressures.  I hope it will be an encouragement.  In our culture, we don't discuss financial problems openly, so it comes as a shock with others admit financial limitations.  This series will be somewhat unique for that reason.

Opportunity Costs

When I was going to apply to law school, I took a couple courses in Economics at a local community college.  I had never taken any as an undergrad, but I read somewhere that everyone who goes to law school should know something about economics.  I found it fascinating and wished in retrospect I'd taken Economics earlier, I even wished I had majored in it. 

One concept I learned in my basic Economics coursework was "opportunity cost."  It is defined differently in different settings but expresses the idea of the value of alternative choices in a given situation.  For example, if I choose to write for this blog, then I forgo spending time with my family, reading a good book, and giving my dogs a bath.  At this period in time, I've valued expressing myself in this blog over those other options.  The opportunity costs of posting to this blog are time with family, reading a book and bathing my dogs.  I've sacrificed those things to write on this blog today.

Life is full of opportunity costs.  We are constantly making decisions of how to use our time and other resources.  But we don't usually stop to consider that is what we are doing.  Typically, we are so caught up in the hectic-ness of life to realize what we are sacrificing when.  And many times we have no real option but to keep on doing what we are doing.  We have responsibilities--financial and otherwise--that restrict our options.

But sometimes we do have choices that we may not realize.  It can be hard to realize those choices because it would require thinking outside the box and making choices that others in our social circle don't make.  We humans are used to thinking in more traditional ways.  We are creatures of habit.  And it is very hard to go against the herd.  It takes vision and courage.

One reason I started this blog was to help others realize that they had choices and it might be possible to live a more fulfilling life.  Like most folks, I assumed that I'd spend the bulk of my life working frantically at a job until I was in my 60s.  But then I happened upon books about voluntary simplicity and in particular the book Your Money or Your Life by Joe Dominguez and Vikki Robin.  I began to see a different way of living that was more sustainable and more fulfilling.  I'd love for others to have similar epiphanies.

Right now I know people who are not living their best life because they are caught up in the materialism of modern American life.  They are trying to keep up with the Joneses.  They think they cannot live without certain "necessities."  They think they'd have to win the lotto to live their lives doing things they enjoy.  But that may not be the case.

I know women who would love to be stay-at-home moms instead of being away from their kids all day at a job they don't really care about. 

I know people who would like to adopt and provide a child in need a forever home.

I know people who would like to do mission work or work in the nonprofit sector.

I know people who don't mind working, but feel they are betraying their values by working in lucrative industries where the product or services may not provide social value or may create social harm.

I know people in these situations who feel stuck.  They'd rather do something else with their time and other resources, but feel like there is no other choice.  These are middle class professional people.  And to the extent that they want to continue their current spending and standard of living, they are right.  They are stuck in their current jobs--unless they are willing to make changes.

If eating out frequently or grabbing a latte on the way to work is the priority, they are stuck.

If annual vacations to luxury resorts is the priority, they are stuck.

If driving a gas guzzling vehicle is the priority, they are stuck.

If getting professional manicures or pedicures is the priority, they are stuck.

If having a smart phone for everyone in the family is the priority, they are stuck.

If buying fashionable clothes and accessories regularly is the priority, they are stuck.

If having cable TV is the priority, they are stuck.

If sending one's kid to drama camp or classes to earn a black belt are the priority, they are stuck.

If having seen all the Oscar nominated films prior to Oscar night is the priority, they are stuck.

If eating lots of meat and/or all organic produce is the priority, they are stuck.

If filling your home with junk and needing a larger home to store all the junk are priorities, they are stuck.

But note that eating out, grabbing a latte, vacations, gas guzzling vehicles, mani/pedis, smart phones, fashions, first-run movies, and a home filled with junk--these are costs you are choosing to pay if you'd rather do something else with your life.  Following your passion may be the opportunity cost to spending your money on such luxuries and needing to keep working to pay for such luxuries.

At least out here in the 'burbs, the things I listed above tend to be considered necessities by many.  They cannot conceive of a life without such things.  But if you haven't before, I encourage you to try to imagine life without them.  Ask yourself if these things are truly necessities or if you might live without them.  You may be surprised by the answer you come to.

Pursuing One's Passion

I'm at this unique and privileged point in my life.  Due to good career opportunities, our family's frugality and my husband's gainful employment, I'm in a position that I don't have to work for a paycheck.  I'm staying home with my kids and pursuing projects that are meaningful to me. 

I'm well into my 40s, and there is so much I want to do with whatever time I have left.  I wish I had several lives to live! 

I'm sure if we all reflected on it, we'd all have things we'd love to do if earning a living were not the primary focus of our time.  Everyone would have a different list, but to give you just a sense, here (in no particular order) is a non-exhaustive list of things I'd love to do now that I'm no longer having to work for a paycheck:

• work as a missionary abroad or in an underserved community in our own nation
• develop an LGBT ministry within my church community
• become a foster parent
• adopt more children
• hike El Camino pilgrimage in Northern Spain with my husband and/or my kids
• backpack around Iceland, Ireland and Great Britain
• cultivate an abundant vegetable garden to share with people in my community who are food insecure
• get my Ph.D. in gender studies
• become a realtor serving in underserved neighborhoods to help revitalize communities and empower families to become homeowners
• host an exchange student
• start a nonprofit business to provide jobs for marginalized people
• minister to people in prison
• do pro bono work with people in custody for immigration law violations
• participate in more protests
• write a novel

So, this may not look anything like your list.  My passions are not yours.  I only share this list with you to give you a sense of the kind of dreams I have, and to encourage you to have dreams of your own.

But I personally have found it hard to mix pursuing my passion with earning a paycheck.  I went into teaching originally with great idealism, but my own self interest caused me to view it differently than I would have otherwise.  I had to please my principal and vice-principal to avoid getting fired, so I had to tow the party line and not rock the boat.  I had to play politics instead of focusing on helping like I wanted to.  Eventually I became disillusioned with the whole thing and left for law school. 

Something similar happened when I became a lawyer.  And I've seen the same thing happen to others.  People initially go into a profession with the thoughts of helping people, but they get caught up in workplace politics and preservation of their own economic interests such that doing good becomes secondary, if not tertiary or worse.

But I've noticed something different happens when you are doing nonpaid work.  During my hiatus, I've been doing some volunteer work through my church.  I've worked hard, enjoyed it and feel I've made important contributions.  But I'm completely liberated from the worries of pleasing those in charge.  If they don't like everything I do, I frankly don't care.  They cannot fire me.  They cannot give me a bad performance review.  They have no economic carrot to dangle, no economic stick to threaten.  How incredibly liberating!!  I can just focus on helping and doing good.  How wonderful.

Note, however, that I didn't get to this point by winning the lottery.  More on that later.  But for right now, I just want to make the point that in order to pursue your passion, you may need to simplify.  If you want to spend more time on your passions--whether that is doing good in the world, pursuing creative endeavors or spending more time cultivating relationships with loved ones--then it is unlikely in my opinion that you can expect to be well-compensated for those activities.  You may need to live a simpler life in order to pursue your passion.  That may seem daunting to many.  But I don't think it is out of reach.  And one of the main reasons I'm writing this blog is to encourage you to make it happen.

Simpler Living, Compassionate Life: A Christian Perspective edited & compiled by Michael Schut (Part II: Evy McDonald's Essay)

I was plugging along reading Simpler Living, Compassionate Life as a daily devotional.  The essays and excerpts were so varied, it was really hit or miss for me.  But the essay that first (and most) gave me an "a-ha" moment was Evy McDonald's.  It was entitled "Spending Money as if Life Really Matters."  I really encourage you to take a read.

The introductory bio on Ms. McDonald described her as a former nurse who had gone on to found the New Road Map Foundation, which focuses on educating and enabling people to "shift to low-consumption, high-fulfillment lifestyles."  In that mission, they rely primarily on Joe Dominguez and Vicki Robin's book Your Money or Your Life.  I had never heard of that book until reading Ms. McDonald's essay, but afterwards I couldn't wait to read it and it eventually had a real impact on my thinking.  But in the meantime, Ms. McDonald's essay was a great introduction to the concepts in that book and really wetted my appetite.

A number of points in Ms. McDonald's essay really caught my attention.

First, she observed, "Though history shows that there was a constant tension between material acquisition and spiritual transcendence, most households until the twentieth century were not consumers but producers and manufacturers.  People grew their own food, built their own homes, barns and furniture, poured their own candles and sewed their own clothes."  This passage really opened my eyes.  At the time, I was so in the trenches in my career, I had become rather myopic.  It may sound silly but it never occurred to me that the lifestyle I was living (and that most folks in my social circles were living) was a fairly modern invention.  On some level, I guess I had assumed that through the centuries, people had always been consumers.  It was just that we had consumed less and what we had consumed was different in the olden days.  Even though I had read books like Little House on the Prairie as a kid, I guess I had lost sight that that lifestyle was not unique to families whose patriarch yanked them out of civilization to homestead on the frontier.  And it began to dawn on me that if the consumption lifestyle has not always been, maybe it will not always be.  Just maybe there might be another way to live our precious time on this planet--even if we live in large metropolitan areas and have jobs.

Second, Ms. McDonald described that prior to the Great Depression, "social innovators were planning self-sufficient communities that would give people a sense of belonging and integrate urban and rural towns."  She cites David Shi's book The Simple Life in this description.  However, she explains that with the advent of the economic collapse of the Great Depression, these plans fell apart.  Then once the economy recovered, "[l]eading economists felt that perpetual economic growth was possible."  From there, a "theology of consumption began to invade our culture--and our churches.  Slowly, almost imperceptively, we wandered away from the foundational teachings of Jesus--sharing our wealth, identifying with the marginalized, living a life of grateful stewardship--and began to identify our worth with how much money we made or how many possessions we owned." 

Wow!  I really want to read Mr. Shi's book.  Those pre-Depression communities of self-sufficiency sounded exciting.  I've never heard of those.  With our hussle bussle modern lives, most of us have really lost a sense of community.  We don't even know our neighbors in more than a superficial way most of the time.

But I had definitely heard of and been impacted by the belief in "perpetual economic growth" and "theology of consumption."  At the time, my husband and I worked for publicly traded companies fairly obsessed with their stock price.  Everyone was always wanting to show more revenues, more expansion, more everything.  Staying the same was not acceptable.  Shrinking was catastrophe. 

And that thinking about the corporate bottom line infects our thinking in so many other ways.  Schools need to increase their number of graduates and the passage by their students of key tests.  Nonprofits need to show they are helping more people and increasing grants.  We are often judged professionally not by how well we do but by how much improvement we can prove.  But in the back of my mind, when I had a moment to breath, I would sometimes wonder whether it was always possible to grow in tangible ways.  At some point, isn't growth more difficult to achieve?  Is such growth even valuable if you've gotten so big and it takes so much effort to grow a little more?

And the theology of consumption is not just a secular idea.  When I was young, I didn't like going to church.  There were a lot of reasons, but one was that church seemed to often be a chance for people to show off their fancy clothes.  I never had a lot of clothes, fancy or otherwise.  This was a distraction for me, and I never understood how showing off one's clothes squared with Jesus's teaching.  I couldn't reconcile the two, and sadly it drove me away from church for many years.

It continues today to some extent.  My husband and I have felt judged even by clergy for not dressing more elegantly.  We don't wear ripped jeans and flip flops, but we also don't wear suits.  One Christmas, a deacon approached our family and to our horror asked if one (but not both) of our children would like to help the pastor at one point in the service because the child she was inviting "was dressed."  What she meant was that our invited child had taken it upon herself to wear her fanciest dress, while our other child was wearing a more modest outfit of slacks and a solid cotton shirt.  Apparently, the uninvited child wasn't fancy enough to be seen at the front of the church.  We were so disappointed in this mentality!

And it is not just clothes.  We are a culture that still judges each other based on other possessions--what kind of car, which electronics, what kind of house, what kind of furniture.  But Ms. McDonald notes how contrary that is to Jesus's teachings.  How convicting!

Later, she had a line that caught my attention.  She notes that "our affluence and consumption [have not] given us more fulfilling, happier and just ways of living" and instead "[t]oday, people admit to feeling stressed and tired with little time to care for and nuture relationships, family, friends or the environment."  She notes that researchers have indicated this trend increased from the 1970s to now. It left us "[s]atiated at the physical level, yet starved at the spiritual level."  These words really hit home.  Why was I working so hard?  It was true that I had more financial cushion than I'd ever had in my life.  But money was not the big motivator to me.  My husband and I didn't particularly like buying things.  We did enjoy traveling.  And our corporate jobs were giving us the money to go places.  But they also gave us so few vacation days that we frankly had little time to go anywhere.

Quoting Marcus Borg in Meeting Jesus Again for the First Time, she states: "Our culture's secular wisdom does not affirm the reality of the spirit. . . It looks to the material world for satisfaction and meaning.  Its dominant values are what I call the three A's--Achievement, Affluence and Appearance."  Mr. Borg's book is a great one, but even if you aren't a person of faith, it is easy to see the emptiness and futility of a life built on those three A's.  Those values are really pointless.  They aren't sustainable or lasting.

The part of the essay that particularly got my attention was when Ms. McDonald described how her "[w]ork was the center of her life" until a particular day that changed her life.  She received a devastating medical report and was advised she would probably die within a year.  Because of her health condition, she was rapidly replaced at work because her manager did not think she would still be able to keep up with such a demanding job.  She wrote, "I had lost the job that gave me my identity, my purpose in life and my sense of self-worth, and I had been told that I was going to die."  To add insult to injury, she then found out her home had been burglarized and most of her worldly possessions were gone.  Out of the blue, in rapid succession, everything was taken away--her future, her career and her things. 

She described that God was the only place to turn, but she painfully realized that she had not been living the life she had professed:  "God only existed for me at times of crisis or convenience."  She asked herself whom she wanted to be when she died and the answer came to her: "I wanted to be a person who lived her values, understood what service was about and could love herself enough to accept God's love and love her neighbor."  She went on to explain that to make that happen, "[m]y self-centered and unhealthy relationship with money was a logical place to start learning how to live my values."  This led her to accept a friend's invitation to attend a seminar by Joe Dominguez. 

She summarized that she had two main takeaways from the seminar.  The first was "identifying how much is enough" and the second was "understanding the true definition of money."  Ms. McDonald went on to elaborate that per Joe Dominguez "enough" is "having our survival needs met (food, clothing, shelter), having possessions that bring joy and comfort and even having those few special luxuries that add to the quality of our life."  She explains that her definition of money had previously been "power, prestige, status and a way to identify where I stood in relation to other people of my profession," but Mr. Dominguez defined it in a completely different way: "Money is something for which you trade your life energy--your time."  To make this definition more comprehensible, Ms. McDonald elaborated:

Every purchase could be seen in terms of the number of hours I would need to work to pay for it.  The real cost of a $100 blouse, therefore, would be the 20 hours on the job needed to make the money to buy it.  Would I receive satisfaction from the blouse equal to 20 hours of my life?  I began to apply that question to all my purchases.

That one paragraph was a revelation (and a revolution!) to me.  I did some computations to figure out my hourly "wage" though I was a salaried employee.  I then used that number to think about how many hours of my life I had given up for various purchases I had made.  That gave me a whole new way to look at how I was spending my life and whether various purchases were a good use of my life energy.  We only have a finite amount of time in this life.  None of us knows how much.  We cannot squander our lives or put off living until retirement.

Ms. McDonald's experience rang true to me on so many levels.  I too was working crazy hours.  And around the time I read her essay, I had had some health scares of my own.  Things had turned out well, but there were some nervous times after initial doctors' reports that made me wonder if I was not long for this world.  That kind of experience is scary and stressful, but it is also valuable in helping you put things in perspective!

I loved how Ms. McDonald ended her essay:

Gradually my actions became more aligned with my values.  I discovered the truth of graceful simplicity: having a few pairs of shoes, not 70; a few blouses, not a hundred; books that are read instead of lining the shelves.  Through this process I reclaimed the most precious gift God gave me--the hours of my life--and I could begin to discover how God wanted those hours used.  In defining how much was enough for me I found time for serving, reading, watching sunsets, singing, going for a walk with friends, enjoying a concert and listing in silent prayer.  In short, a life of immeasurable wealth.

I still consume.  We all consume.  The critical step is to move from being conspicuous consumers to being conscious consumers.

Discovering what was enough for me allowed me to make that shift.  Our task now is to return to a life based on feeding the hungry, clothing the poor, raising healthy loving children, and stewarding and preserving creation.  Perhaps then each act of consumption will become a hymn of thanksgiving.

Aren't those beautiful words?  I hope they will be a joy and a blessing to you.

Simpler Living, Compassionate Life: A Christian Perspective edited & compiled by Michael Schut (Part I: Overview)

In the prior post, I explained that disappointment about the outcome of an election led to a serendipitous visit to a religious bookstore where I happened to come across my first book on voluntary simplicity: Simpler Living, Compassionate Life: A Christian Perspective edited & compiled by Michael Schut.  I think I should say a bit about the book.

The book is a collection of essays and excerpts from longer pieces by various authors.  I have to admit that a lot of them did not really take root.  Many were over my head.  I'm a pretty well-educated person and I read a lot.  But as I read the book, many of the essays and excerpts seemed to presuppose background knowledge I did not have.  Some seemed to presuppose a fairly in-depth understanding of voluntary simplicity.  Others were out of my reach because they seemed to have been written for an audience who had graduated from seminary, which I have not.

Nonetheless, I persevered.  It was a really low point spiritually for me at that point in time.  And I somehow sensed that this particular book had something to teach me that would be important to help get me to a better place spiritually.

I tried to read one essay or excerpt each day as a daily devotional.  Some days this was interesting and fruitful; the reading gave me food for thought.  Other days, I got very little out of the reading and I was bored/lost. 

Nonetheless, after completing the book, there were some big picture things that stuck with me.  Our middle class way of life in the U.S. is luxurious compared to how most of our brothers and sisters live around the world.  If we scale down even a bit the level of luxuries we Americans enjoy, we will not die and we will not suffer deprivation.  Indeed, scaling down somewhat can actually lead to more abundance.  The more luxuries we insist on having, the more we typically have to work.  But by scaling back--or simplifying--we can work less and have more time.  Time is the real treasure in our life.  It is finite and precious, no matter how we try to forget or deny that.

I Owe It All to Dubyah

Ok, so time to get back to the beginning and explain how I came to embrace the concept of voluntary simplicity. 

Honestly, a decade ago I had never heard of such a thing.  If I had heard the phrase, I would have had no ability to define it.  At that time, I was a well-educated, professional working insane hours, married to a professional who had his own insane hours at his job, and we had a lovely home in a gated golf course community in the suburbs of a major urban center.  I was fairly early in my career, and my husband and I were both busy on the treadmill of the corporate world.  In the little free time we had, we were busy with a bunch of church activities and trying to maintain our home.  There was little time to stop and breath--let alone think about the big picture.  We were just trying to keep our heads above water with all that we had on our plates.

Then the 2004 presidential election was held and I was devastated by the results.  (Ok, my conservative friends, this is the time I warned you about.  Stay with me, keep reading despite the next several paragraphs.)

In 2004, I was deeply concerned about the direction in which our country had been going.  In the course of the first term of George W. Bush, we'd suffered devastating attacks on our country.  Instead of using that traumatic tragedy to build on the solidarity felt for our country domestically (and internationally), our president and his advisers stoked fear and exploited it.  They exploited our feelings of vulnerability and promulgated untruths, which resulted in imprudent military actions that caused us to be quagmired in two long wars on foreign soil.  Instead of showing international leadership and maintaining the moral highroad, we had become a pariah nation whose credibility was shot.  My husband and I both worked in the energy industry at the time, and consequently felt certain (due to our professional insights) that the invasion of Iraq had been a thinly veiled attempt to secure better access and control over that nation's petroleum resources.  It was never about WMDs.  It was demoralizing to us that most of the country--who were not in the energy sector--did not realize this or call the administration on their charade. 

I had never been a big fan of John Kerry.  Another Massachusetts liberal running for president?  That didn't seem like a winning ticket to me.  But in my mind, he was better than the alternative.  As a Christian, I take Jesus's teachings very seriously and the reckless engagement in wars of questionable legitimacy were alarming to say the least.  In the late summer and early fall of 2004, it appeared that Senator Kerry had a strong shot at winning the election, and I was hopeful that he might turn things around despite the horrible mess our country had gotten itself in. 

Even on election day, things seemed to be going well.  Then came Ohio.  Apparently, Senator Kerry did well in the urban areas, but in rural communities there had been an unprecedented drive to get people to the polls.  That year, Karl Rove and his team had exploited voter initiatives on same-sex marriage in many states to encourage conservative voters to get to the polls despite their waning enthusiasm for President Bush.  In essence, they exploited another type of fear--homophobia--in order to squeak past Senator Kerry in key states. 

And sadly, it worked.  When the results became final and Senator Kerry conceded, I was incredulous and deflated.  I couldn't believe that we were stuck with another four years of one of the more disastrous presidencies in recent memory.  I couldn't believe that the military quagmire would show no signs of improvement.  It might even get worse.

And as a Christian, I was also distraught that the way the election was won ended up crystalizing even more in the minds of non-Christians the concept of Christian homophobic bigotry.  We were not known for our love, but our hate.  We were not sharing God's love with a hurting world, but judging and condemning in ways Jesus warned us against.

As a Christian, I couldn't believe God would let all this happen.  (OK, my non-religious friends, this is the time I warned you about.  Stick with me for the next few paragraphs even if you don't agree with my faith perspective.)

I had felt so certain that the offensive wars, in which we were engaged, were a moral outrage that God would remedy with a domestic regime change.  A decorated soldier with a distinguished history of public service and the backing of so many military leaders.  Surely this was God's plan to help end the wars and the anguishing human suffering it engendered.  I had felt confident that God's apparent plan would work out.  Then Senator Kerry conceded and President Bush declared victory.  What the heck happened?!!?  It was surreal.  There must have been a mistake.

I was so distraught.  I remember closing my office door--despite our "open door" policy--and listening to Senator Kerry's speech in secret so none of my Republican co-workers would hear.  I just sat there in disbelief as tears rolled down my cheeks.  I even left work earlier than normal.  I just couldn't focus on anything and couldn't hold back my tears.  I didn't know what else to do, so I went to a Christian book store not far from my office. 

I didn't really know what I was even looking for.  But I already was kicking myself for having thought that I could so easily discern God's plans and that he cared as much about politics as I had.  I was already vowing that I should not get so invested in secular politics, but should renew myself spiritually.  Among other things, I vowed to start reading the Bible more regularly.  But I also had a vague thought that maybe at the Christian book store, I might find a book to help me mend my broken heart and allay my concern for our nation.  I wandered up and down the aisles.  Nothing was really calling out to me.  But then I saw a book that somehow caught my attention.

The book was called Simpler Living, Compassionate Life: A Christian Perspective edited and compiled by Michael Schut.  The cover was off-white with medium blue font.  There was a photo of a straw hat, flowers and some worn leather clogs.  Visually it was very pleasant and soothing.

The back cover included praise from people I had not yet heard of: Elaine St. James, Jim Wallis and Vicki Robin.  The back cover also included a summary that began:

Not enough time?  Money?  Peace?  Can less really be more?  What really matters to you?  This powerful resource can help you find the questions that challenge you, and the answers that help. . . A diversity of voices and a helpful study guide make this an effective tool for individuals and groups ready to consider alternatives to the high-price, high-stress 'Good Life': the riches of simplicity and compassion.

Honestly, I did not fully understand at the time what all this meant.  But it sounded good.  It sounded like exactly what was really ailing me at the time.  It wasn't just my disappointment over the election and my concern about our nation's questionable wars. 

I had been on a treadmill of stress and competition at work.  I had so little life outside my job.  This was not what I felt I really wanted, but the "high-price, high-stress 'Good Life'" was what everyone in our social circle was chasing.  You went to college, went off to work in the corporate world, bought your lovely home in the 'burbs where you could show off your furniture and play golf.  If everyone else is doing it, it must be right.  It never occurred to us there might be another path.

The reality was that my husband and I didn't even play golf and had no desire to begin doing so.  We did not particularly care about having a fancy house.  Initially, we'd just wanted to be comfortable in a home we would enjoy.  It wasn't about keeping up with the Joneses.  But whenever our neighbors had a party, I'd feel that we weren't keeping up and needed to spend time on getting closer to the ideal in the magazines.  However, we never really had time to do that.  We were always working.  And when we did get a couple days off, we liked to travel and see different places.  We enjoyed experiences, not so much things.

We'll get more into all that later.  But the bottom line is I owe my epiphany to Dubyah.  Had I not been so disgusted with his first term, and so devastated by his winning of a second term, I would not have been inspired to embark on a spiritual renewal.  I would have continued reading the Bible only sporadically instead of devoting myself anew to a daily study of Scripture.  I also would not have felt inspired to go to the Christian book store that fateful day.  That post-election disappointment and sadness were what prompted me to look for a book on a spiritual topic that would help me find a new path in life.  One that was much more grounded in my true values and ultimately much more sustainable.

One More Thing

Ok, I've now flagged a couple things about me that will come through in my posts that could be polarizing:  politics and faith.  I wanted to give a heads up so no one is caught off guard.  No surprises. 

And I wanted to be up-front about these things because if you disagree with my politics or my theology, you might be inclined to write me off and not read any more of this blog.  I've encouraged you to not do that and to look for common ground.  In my experience, most of us have more common ground than we might initially imagine.

I've thought of one other thing about myself that is likely to come through on posts about voluntary simplicity and that might be polarizing:  My husband and I homeschool our kids.

I know this decision can be very controversial.  Like many homeschooling families, we've learned to not lead with this tidbit.  We don't lie or hide the truth, but we don't necessarily advertise the fact that we homeschool.  When questions come up about where our kids go to school and we have to explain, we've gotten a wide range of reactions over the years. 

I'll start on a positive note.  Some folks are impressed.  They say things like "God bless you, that is wonderful!" 

Alternatively, if they have kids too, they often (without any provocation) become defensive to some degree.  They explain they think homeschooling is ideal, but then they feel compelled to justify why they aren't homeschool.  There are a number of reasons cited typically.  They could never do it because they don't have the patience, knowledge and/or financial resources to do so. 

I always try to make such parents know I believe that education is not a one-size-fits-all sort of thing.  Each child is unique.  Every family has its own dynamics.  Different educational approaches are best for different kids and different families.

On a less positive note, other folks we encounter have much less favorable reactions to the disclosure that we homeschool.  Most just seem to stare blankly at us like a deer in headlights.  They seem to not know what to say.  It is as if we've just disclosed that we live on the moon and we summer on Jupiter.  I often get the impression that such folks are thinking, "Wow, you seemed so normal, I had no idea you were deranged.  How do I politely get as far from you as possible?"  Maybe I'm wrong and these folks are not thinking such things.  Maybe they are just socially awkward.  Not sure, but we get this sort of reaction a lot.  To such people, I often wish I could console them that we don't live on a "compound" or carry firearms.  Nothing to fear.  But I figure that would freak them out all the more, so I just smile pleasantly.

A handful of people, upon learning that we homeschool, have had negative reactions that they've shared with us in fairly rude ways. 

One dear friend frowned and said bluntly, "I don't believe in that, kids need to be in schools."  She had no kids of her own and had never even worked with kids.  But clearly her own educational experience was what everyone else needed. 

Years ago, a fellow soccer mom with a kid on my daughter's team replied, "Well, I guess that is ok if you don't care about standards.  For me, I'd rather know my child is learning what she is supposed to."  That mom was very hung up on standardized tests and the modern trend of teaching to the test.  She didn't trust an educational approach that was different.  Her assumption was we were setting our kids up for a life of poverty because they would be unqualified for better jobs. 

I don't try to show off, but to allay any such concerns, dear reader, let me assure you my kids are doing fine.  My 5th grader is half-way through 7th grade math and my 3rd grader is almost done with 5th grade math curriculum.  They are both avid readers.  They are good kids, but my older child sometimes smuggles books into her bed to read them after bedtime or first thing when she wakes up.  We are currently reading Romeo and Juliet together, which is a hoot because my kids keep attempting English accents when they read their assigned roles.  My 5th grader is also reading Pride and Prejudice and a book about the fall of Troy, while my 3rd grader is reading A Little Princess and The Odyssey.  They are both learning to type and to play the piano.  One has been in soccer and basketball leagues.  The other has studied folk dancing and has been on both soccer and volleyball teams.  Both my kids want to go to college. My older daughter wants to be a scientist, and my younger daughter vacillates between wanting to be a dentist and an artist.

However, if you still sympathize more with the folks who've had negative reactions to homeschooling, I recognize this point may be a real turn-off to what otherwise may have seemed like a promising blog.  I encourage you to not write me off, but to consider a few things.

First, about 10 years ago, I would have had the same reaction as you. 

My husband and I both come from a family of public school teachers.  Not only was grade school teaching the family business, but both my husband and I were educated K though college in public schools.  It worked out pretty well for us. 

And I began my career as a grade school teacher where I did not have a favorable impression of homeschoolers.  The only ones I met were the antagonistic families who eventually pulled their kids out of our public school to homeschool--after they insisted we were promoting a "satanic curriculum" by teaching stories like "The Three Billy Goats Gruff" and "Jack and the Beanstalk."  As most of my colleagues and I were devout Christians, this accusation seemed a bit odd to us. 

Additionally, I lived in a community where there was a high profile murder case where a psychotic mom killed all her young children.  They were homeschooling Christians, so this seemed to confirm my impression at the time that homeschoolers were strange and delusional.

Happily, when we adopted our first child, we met some other adopting families who already had older kids whom they homeschooled.  Like many homeschoolers, they kept a low profile about their educational choice.  So, I got to know them and their children beforehand without forming negative prejudgments due to my own bias against homeschooling. 

These families had teenage kids who were so articulate and polite.  The families seem to work well together.  They pitched in to get things done and to care for younger siblings.  No whining or foot dragging.  They also loved to read and were good at entertaining themselves.  They didn't ever seem to get bored.  I finally asked one of the moms what their secret was to raising such amazing kids.  The answer was homeschooling.  I was beyond surprised but I tried to keep an open mind. 

I asked a lot of questions and learned a lot more about homeschooling from these moms.  They also recommended that I read up on the topic and attend a homeschooling convention.  The more I learned, the more I was impressed and realized my prior impressions of homeschooling were not all that accurate.  Instead, my husband and I became more excited about the notion of one day homeschooling our own child, though at the time she was still a baby.

Like many parents, we already had worries about the school we'd eventually send our daughter.  Bullying, the quality of the education, trying to instill our family's values, peer pressure.  There are so many issues.  Like many middle class parents, we had already bought a home in a suburban area with well-resourced schools with the assumption that we'd send her to our local public school when she was old enough.  But we'd already heard from neighbors that things were not necessarily as rosy in the local schools as we had thought.  The local schools had problems, so we'd preliminarily looked into private schools.  Those schools were not only pricy, but they often had their own issues.  Among other things, private schools were not regulated in our state, so it was hard to gauge quality from one to another.  But as we learned about homeschooling, it seemed to be a solution to many of the concerns we had about public and private schooling.

As it turned out, there were also some exciting bonuses to homeschooling that we came to realize as we researched the topic.  First, a homeschooling family spends so much more time together that relationships become strong and the family works well as a unit.  Second, instead of being at the mercy of whichever teacher our child was assigned each year, we could take her education into our own hands to ensure a high level of quality.  Third, we could help instill a love of learning by letting our kids follow their interests more by tailoring our curriculum and spending more time on some topics.  Finally, such tailoring also allows homeschooling families to go faster on topics that kids find easy so they don't get bored.  But if they ran into topics they found particularly difficult, we could slow down until they mastered them.  I know first hand as a grade school teacher, that kind of tailoring is not possible in modern institutional schools where the whole class has to cover the same topics in the same sequence and at the same time.

So, in sum, I flag that we homeschool not because I'm proselytizing.  I respect every family's right to educational autonomy.  What works for one family is not best for another.  But homeschooling is a core aspect of our family life, which is going to come out in my blog posts.  We spend a lot of our days homeschooling.  And we spend a lot more time with our kids than we would otherwise because they are not away at school.  Further, we're all at the house a lot more than if we were all gone during the day at jobs and school.  The fact that we homeschool explains all that. 

But You're a Suburbanite!

OK, so we've addressed head-on some of the key aspects about me that will become apparent as this blog comes together:  my politics, my faith.  But another thing that is going to come through in my blog posts is that I am a suburbanite.  As we'll explore at a later date, most devotees of voluntary simplicity would not think suburbia meshes well with that concept.  As I'll explain later, I appreciate that preconception, but don't necessarily agree.

So here goes. 

I live on the edge of a sprawling urban metropolis.  Ten years ago, most of the land currently occupied by our suburban municipality was either farm land or left in its natural state.  Now it is quite developed.  Lots of roads, lots of buildings, lots of human beings.

My family and I live in a large single family home with a big backyard.  Our subdivision is full of other such homes with similar architecture.  It is managed by a fairly aggressive HOA that threatens fines and legal action if you don't have the right number of trees in the front yard or if your weeds get unsightly.  Most of our neighbors have minor children.  The only people on our block during week days are a few moms with preschool age kids.  Everyone else is either off at school or earning a living.

All the families in our neighborhood have cars.  At least two.  Sometimes more.  That is the nature of where we live.  Public transportation is virtually unheard of in our neck of the woods.  Some of the year the weather is too harsh to safely walk or bike very far.  People die from exertion during such extreme weather.  So we get in our cars to get around protected from the elements.

If you drive 5-10 minutes from our neighborhood, you'll be out of the residential area and run into lots of churches, restaurants and shopping opportunities.  There are also four different terrific public libraries within a 10-15 minute drive.  But if you want to explore other cultural offerings such as theaters or museums, you have to get on the highway and drive at least 30 minutes--depending on where you are going and the time of day.

Our family has lived in our home for about five years.  When we first moved to this metropolis, we considered buying a home in the city center near the museums and closer to my job.  In an ideal world, we'd be in the car less and closer to the amenities of the big city. 

We looked hard, but there were several reasons we ultimately opted to not buy a home in the city center. 

First, the housing stock was a lot more expensive closer to the city center.  Even small homes in need of TLC in neighborhoods with graffiti and potholes were pricey.  For the cost of one of those, we could get a bigger, newer home in our current neighborhood. 

Second, quite frankly most of the homes that were anywhere near our price range in the city center were in need of significant TLC.  They were older homes.  They had been through a lot.  Roofs and/or air conditioning units were going to need replacing before long.  Mold was sometimes lurking behind walls.  The wiring was old.  Sometimes it was of questionable safety.  Other times, it may not have been able to support constant use of computers and other gadgets of our modern lifestyle.

And because many of the homes were older, there were frankly concerns about the health of our children.  The homes we might have afforded were built in the era of lead paint.  Some of them might have also had asbestos.  Those types of contaminants have extremely serious health consequences and they are not easily remedied.  They impact the home itself, as well as the surrounding yard.  Children are particularly vulnerable to such contaminants. 

Parenthetically, living in the city center also poses other potential problems for children's health.  Like many sprawling metropolitan areas, ours has serious air quality issues.  When we first moved to this area, I heard a radio report about it and the corollaries to childhood asthma.  I've had anecdotal confirmation of these corollaries.  A significant number of my friends who live in the city center have kids with asthma and other respiratory problems.  Those issues are much less prevalent in our suburban area where we're away from the worst of the pollution.

The next major reason we opted for the 'burbs is we needed a fair amount of space.  We are in our home a lot.  At the time, I did a lot of work from home, so I needed a dedicated home office to take care of business.  My husband went back to school a couple years ago, so he also needed room to spread out his books and study.  We homeschool our children, so we're home most of the day.  Unlike many families who aren't in their homes most weekdays, we get a lot of use out of this space.  If we had a smaller home in the city center, we'd be on top of each other and feeling cramped.

Finally, we aspire to adopt more children or become foster parents.  When you grow your family in that manner, there are inflexible rules about the size of your home.  In particular, you have to have enough bedrooms.  And the bedrooms each have to be large enough per the rules for the number of children you will have.  Many families have aspired to become foster parents, but find out too late they don't have a home that will satisfy the rules.  They either attempt to add on to their home, move to a larger one or give up on the dream of foster parenting.  We didn't want to be in that situation.

Out of the Closet

So, here is another thing about me that is going to show through in my blog posts: I'm a Christian.  If you do not share my faith perspective, please don't head for the hills.  Keep reading.

I'm a bit nervous to acknowledge my faith in this setting.  But I do so because it is important because my faith informs my world view.  It is going to shine through in my writing like it or not.  Indeed, my faith is a primary reason I'm drawn to the notion of voluntary simplicity.  So, it is important to be up-front about it.

But let me be clear why I'm nervous to share this.  I'm not in anyway ashamed of my faith; I tend to be quite open about it.  But because of that openness, I know from past experience that many will read the word "Christian" and make certain negative prejudgments about me.  The term often carries with it a lot of baggage in our culture.  Connotations of the dour anti-dancing preacher in Footloose or the judgmental nature of Dana Carvey's "Church Lady" are not uncommon.

And though I am devoutly Christian, that does not mean that I embrace certain beliefs you may associate with Christianity (or at least certain variants thereof).  For example, I don't believe that dinosaurs and humans walked the earth at the same time.  I don't believe feminists or homosexuals were responsible for the horrific suffering endured due to the 9/11 attacks.  I also don't believe the devastating earthquake that hit Port-au-Prince in 2010 was recompense for a pact that Haiti made with the devil centuries ago.  And if he were physically present on this planet today, I personally doubt the Son of God would lobby for a repeal of the estate tax.  But maybe that is just me.  Admittedly, I never went to seminary.

When addressing my political biases, I mentioned I didn't want this to be a political blog because I aspired for it to be broader in appeal. Similarly, I come to voluntary simplicity at least initially due to my faith, and many people of faith are also drawn to the concept.  But I don't intend in any way for this to be a "Christian blog." 

There is nothing wrong with having a Christian blog, there are some excellent ones out there.  But again I aspire that this particular blog would have a wider appeal.  Plenty of folks from other faiths--or no faith at all--are drawn to the notion of voluntary simplicity.  My hope is that whatever your spiritual perspective you will find something of value in this blog.

A Vacation From Politics

Ok, so, at the end of the last few posts my bleeding heart might have shown a bit.  Whoops!

This might be a good time to make clear that I don't in any way want this blog to become political.  I have plenty of other contexts for discussing politics and policy issues.  That is not the intended focus of this blog. 

Social justice is actually extremely important to me, and that alone is a great rationale for embracing voluntary simplicity.  But there are also plenty of other rationales that have nothing to do with social justice.  If your interest in voluntary simplicity is rooted in one of those other rationales, I don't want you to be deterred by a perception that this is a political blog.  It is not, so keep reading.

One reason this will not become a political blog is that partisanship often gets in the way of the greater good and needlessly tears people apart.  It often creates divisions that were not there previously and/or accentuates differences to divide people who otherwise have much in common.  In short, partisanship is the antithesis of community, while one aspect of voluntary simplicity that appeals to me is that it promotes community.  When we slow down and eschew all the modern busyness, we focus on building relationships and helping others.

For a variety of reasons, voluntary simplicity is something that appeals to many Americans regardless of our political affiliations.  More on that later in future posts.  But until then, please recognize that voluntary simplicity is not a red thing or a blue thing.  There are Libertarians, Democrats, Independents, Republicans, Green Partiers and unregistered voters--among others--who are drawn to the values of voluntary simplicity.  People from many different backgrounds, embracing many different worldviews are dissatisfied with the superficial, materialistic rat race that has become our modern culture.  I aspire that this blog will be a place where anyone and everyone who similarly experiences such dissatisfaction can find a bit of rest for tired bones and a weary soul.

Though I don't want this blog to be political, and I'd like to have as inclusive an approach to this topic as possible, please be aware that my own political orientation is going to creep in at times.  That is inevitable.  That is part of who I am.  But my promise to you the reader is that I'll try to keep the political references to a minimum.  I'll include them only when they are important to something I'm trying to describe or express.

And any such political references will not be included in an effort to push a particular political agenda.  I myself respect and even relish that we may come from different political backgrounds.  One thing I love in life is when people who are so incredibly different actually take time to listen to one another and come to realize they really have much in common.

Simultaneously, I encourage readers to be truly open-minded when they see a political reference.  Don't write me off just because you realize we vote for different candidates.  Keep reading.  Look for the common ground. 

And there should be something for pretty much everyone.  Some people who know me well think I'm a flaming liberal, while others think I'm a corrupt conservative.  I guess it all comes down to your perspective.  Again, I encourage you to be open-minded and see through the sometimes artificial labels that modern politics uses to divide people.  Again, look for the common ground.

Believe me, I appreciate how challenging it is to be open-minded in this day and age.  In recent times, due to the options we have in where we live, as well as the media choices available, many of us opt to only listen to those who agree with our own beliefs and can help reinforce them.  This has been dubbed the "echo chamber effect."  But in truth, that approach is just a form of intellectual masturbation.  It is self-indulgent and pointless.  Further, it can be misinforming if we don't get all the facts or hear contra-arguments.  To really understand the world, we need to be exposed to different perspectives and do the hard work of discerning truth for ourselves.  The bottom line is that echo chambers waste time on many levels, and, as mentioned in prior posts, time is precious.

In closing for today, if you see something in this blog that sounds political or seems to espouse an idea with which you disagree, please stick with me.  Don't write me off.  Something attracted you to the topic of this blog.  Keep reading even if you don't agree with me 100%.  One more time: look for the common ground.

Voluntary Simplicity v. Involuntary, Material Poverty

I recognize that not everyone reading this blog necessarily understands yet what the concept of "voluntary simplicity" is.  I'll explore that in more depth later in the blog.  But for now I just want to address one thing, of which I'm very conscious.  That is the privilege of embracing voluntary simplicity. 

By its name, the concept of voluntary simplicity suggests an affirmative decision to forego material things and excess activities in order to be more present in our lives and to be good stewards of our resources.  The concept is the opposite of involuntary material poverty that is thrust upon someone by circumstances beyond his or her control. 

The former is a choice to give up things that weigh us down and keep us from what is really important in life.  The former also recognizes that our modern Western consumptive lifestyle is not healthy or sustainable on either a micro or macro level.  The notion of voluntary simplicity presumes one's basic needs are met.  There is adequate food and shelter to maintain health.  But when one embraces voluntary simplicity, there is a conscious effort to try to avoid excess and overindulgence because such things distract from true happiness, and are unhealthy for both our bodies and our planet.

By contrast, involuntary, material poverty is not something to be glorified.  It is awful.  Working three demeaning jobs for minimum wage to avoid being kicked out of your apartment is not anything to which a rational human would aspire.  It is unfair that some have so many luxuries while others don't have enough to satisfy their bellies.  Such poverty also hurts in less tangible ways, particularly when you have dependents looking to you to fill their basic needs.  In no way do I embrace or advocate voluntary simplicity because I think being poor is glamorous or fun.  Due to various life experiences, I am under so such illusion. 

Simply Sunday #1

Hi!  Happy Sunday!

I'm going to start a tradition that I'll call "Simply Sundays."  Every Sunday, I'm going to try to set aside a bit of time to just reflect back on the week--particularly the things I did (or didn't do) in an effort to simplify my life and that of my family.

To be honest, I had mixed emotions about this brainstorm initially.  Because of my professional life, I've become such a goal-oriented, Type A personality over the years.  Lists can kind of feed that tendency, and discourage me from simplifying. 

We also live in a culture of lists that are given more significance than they actually deserve.  ...It's midnight but I can't go to sleep yet because I haven't crossed off everything on my list.  Your school is #25 on the list, mine didn't even make it, so I'm a loser by comparison.  I'm ranked higher on the list than the guy in the next office; I get a bonus and he gets canned.

With all that, I'm a little wary of lists at times. But still, I'm going to give this tradition a try.  If I don't like how it is going after a while, I'll discontinue.  No prob. 

Right now, however, I do think there can be value in taking a step back to reflect on the week.  It can be insightful and encouraging to remember ways in which voluntary simplicity was integrated into the days that have just past.  After all, the point of this blog is to memorialize the journey as I try to embrace voluntary simplicity in a greater way.

Here goes...

This week my daughters and I were coming home from the grocery store when a voice from the back seat spotted a butterfly.  I pulled the car over in a safe place and we just watched it for a while.  How beautiful!  So fragile.  So precious.  We didn't literally stop to smell the roses.  (We didn't see any.)  But we did it figuratively.

As I'm winding down my responsibilities with my paid gig, there was an unexpected and very frustrating delay that was beyond my control.  This caused a bunch of headaches for me and normally it would have stressed me out a heck of a lot.  But I took it in stride, even put it out of my mind for the most part.  I went about my business without dwelling on the situation.  The quality of my week was greatly improved as a result.

In the middle of the week, I took time out to help my older daughter make her first cake.  I didn't rush the process or fuss when she made a mess.  I just encouraged her and was present to give her guidance.  She was very proud of herself at the end.  We all gave her a round of applause for a delicious dessert.  She seemed to enjoy the kudos.

Later the same day, my younger daughter asked me to color with her.  And I did!  We sat on the floor, plopped the coloring book on the coffee table, and colored with much contentment.  However, I admit I was a little too fast.  I have to remember it is about the journey, not the destination.  Especially when crayons are involved.  It is not a race to see who finished their picture first.  And it doesn't matter if the leaves are fuchsia. 

One more!  I tried out a new vegetarian recipe: carrot soufflé.  It sounds harder than it actually was.  Pretty simple, pretty frugal.  Quite yummy and beautiful!  A hit with the whole family.

Enjoy your Sunday!

The Preciousness of Time

One of the things that most impressed me about Ms. Strobel's book was her point that life is short and time is the most valuable resource we have.  We all hear such sentiments, but most of the time we merely pay lip service to them.  We're so busy running around in the busyness of our lives and checking off things on our never-ending to-do lists.

However, now that I'm firmly entrenched in my 40s, and my kids are nearing the threshold of their teen years, the reality of the preciousness of time has become clearer to me.  I can't put off spending time with my kids reading or teaching them important life skills.  That report for work frankly won't mean squat in 10 years.  But it would be a real travesty if I didn't make time to listen and be fully present when my kids asked, "You know what, Mom?"

And there are other things I still want to do with my life.  Things I'd like to do or at least try, and places I'd like to see.  I can't put those things off indefinitely.  Who knows how long I'll be on this planet.  There is a local community newspaper that I like to read.  Among other things, it has obituaries of residents who have died.  Most are in their 60s, 70s or 80s.  Occasionally there is one for a child or young adult, but fortunately those are pretty rare.  However, it is not as rare to see an obituary for someone my age or not far off.  None of us are guaranteed even another day of life.  We can't procrastinate with the big things of life.

I feel a little dense that it has taken until my 40s to really begin to get this.  I glean that Ms. Strobel is much younger than me.  And she had her critical epiphanies in her 20s.  Jeesh, I was just ramping up the busyness of my life in those years! 

But ultimately, it is not a competition.  And I am so grateful for the life experiences I've had up until this point.  They have taught me much.  Moreover, I am so incredibly excited about this next phase of my life.

Inspiration

Our family loves books.  The public library is one of favorite places ever.  We go there at least once each week.  Usually, I spend most of our visit in the kids' section helping my daughters find books they want to read.  In the past, I did not necessarily have time to look for something I wanted to read on my own.  But in anticipation of this huge crossroads in my life, on a recent visit, I picked up several nonfiction books on topics I want to explore more in coming months. 

One book was Tammy Strobel's You Can Buy Happiness (and It's Cheap):  How One Woman Radically Simplified Her Life and How you Can Too.  (How can you not be drawn to a title like that?!)  Over the years, I've read a lot of books on simple living.  They were all fascinating and helpful in their own way.  But one thing I particularly appreciated about Ms. Strobel's book was how down-to-earth and honest she was. 

Ms. Strobel admits she is not a perfect minimalist.  She loves buying books and indulging in chocolate.  She and her husband took on debt to downsize to a tiny home.  She shares in the book how she fretted this financial step backwards made her a fraud or hypocrite. 

But I love how Ms. Strobel is very forgiving.  Perfection is not the goal, which she reminds her readers often.  That is a tough lesson for us to learn in modern America where our culture sends us the opposite message all the time.  One screw up and you are out of a job, will be sued or will ruin your kids' lives.

Working towards an ideal like voluntary simplicity takes time.  You may never get to the ideal anyhow.  That's why it's an idea.  And everyone's circumstances are different.  Learning to slow down, stop all the busyness to enjoy a higher quality of life.  That is what counts.  No guilt trips if your circumstances put you in a home or a job that meets the needs of you and your family but may not be as simple as you would ultimately like.

Ms. Strobel's book describes her journey in simplifying her life, and also tells the stories of people she knows.  I like that.  We learn from hearing each other's stories. 

Some of what I read was familiar.  I had been through experiences like those of the people described in the book.  For example, Ms. Strobel talks about her miserable early career in the corporate world.  She was on what Sonja Lyubomirsky calls the "hedonistic treadmill" in her book The How of Happiness.  Many of us deal with the stress of our hectic lives by buying something, which is only a temporary salve and distraction, but ultimately leaves us unfulfilled.  Moreover, when we're on that "hedonistic treadmill," we often make things worse in the long run.  We spend from our savings or go into debt such that we are trapped in our miserable, overly demanding jobs to pay for the stuff we're buying but don't really need.

As much as I admire her and her book, let's get something straight:  Tammy Strobel and I live very different lives. 

She is married and has a cat, but no human children.  I'm married with two human kids and two canine ones.

In their journey to simplify, Ms. Strobel and her husband eventually went carless.  They now bike all over the place.  That ain't ever going to happen in my life!  I don't even aspire to it.  I live in a sprawling metropolitan area where cars are king and the heat is life-threatening in the summer.  We'd be more than inconvenienced if we had no car.  We'd rarely be able to go anywhere and our lives would be in danger!

Ms. Strobel and her husband also moved to a tiny home consisting of 128 square feet.  That ain't ever happening in my life either.  Again, I don't even aspire to it.  Even if we doubled the square footage and looked at a 250ish square foot home, that would not be attractive.  We have active children and we spend a lot of time together at home.  It would not improve the quality of our lives to be so pressed for space.  I'm not going to make our kids give up all their toys.  And unlike Ms. Strobel and her husband, if someone in our family wants alone time, we cannot just venture out for a walk or bike ride by him or herself.  Our kids are too young for that.

Pointing out these differences are not a criticism of Ms. Strobel.  Not in the least.  Our family dynamics are different.  What works for one family may not work for another.  Ms. Strobel acknowledges that in her book.  Simplifying is not a one size fits all sort of thing.

Even though I'll likely never live the "radically simplified" life that Tammy Strobel writes about in her book, I found much that inspired me in her words. 

Many bits of inspiration were actually concepts that I'd read about in the past, but had lost sight of over time.  (I've had a particularly intense professional life the past few years and my kids have gotten older, which means their needs are more complex.)  In that sense, Ms. Strobel's book was a great reminder of past lessons I'd learned but forgotten to some extent.

But I also learned new things in her book,  On pp. 10-11, she writes about Tim Kasser's book The High Price of Materialism.  She sums up Professor Kasser's findings: "In short, materialism distracts us from two main facets in life that actually make us happy--strong relationships and doing work you love."  I loved that summary. 

Strong relationships and doing work you love.  That's what it is really all about, isn't it? 

For so long, I've spent most of my waking hours doing work for my paid gig.  Much of it had become drudgery and full of office politics.  It was draining.  There were aspects I liked very much.  But over time, it seemed like those became less and less a part of my job.    

Meanwhile, I feel like to some extent I've missed some of my kids' childhood.  Mommy was always so busy, so much to do for her paid job.  There are only so many hours in the day, and I didn't always have a lot of time to spend with my kids.  I'm anxious to not miss any more.

As I go through this journey, I'm going to try to return to this summary as my priorities.  Building strong relationships and doing work you love. 

Why Blog?

Good question. 

I started this blog on a whim, so to be honest, I don't really have a well-thought out explanation.

Here's what I can tell you so far...

I've been interested in the concept of voluntary simplicity for almost a decade now.  I'm no radical or anything. We have a pretty big house and two cars.  But our family has tried over the years to incorporate aspects of voluntary simplicity into our lives.  However, I've been a busy mom with a demanding job.  Life has not been as simple as I'd have liked.

But I'm now at an interesting crossroads in my life.  I'm in my 40s.  Officially middle-aged.  Not having a mid-life crisis or anything, but we've made a pretty huge professional shift in our family and the bottom line is I'll be staying home full-time with our kids.  I'm thrilled for a number of reasons.  But one great aspect is that I will now have the time to really focus more on truly simplifying our lives to better enjoy them.

I'd like to document that process of slowing down and getting more out of life.  I imagine it won't be easy.  I'll learn a lot.  Maybe those life lessons will help others.

Let's go!