Living Below Your Means

I have this blog, but I don't [yet?] think of myself as a blogger. My friend Sheila is a real blogger, and her post today seems appropriate to include here.

Sheila and I have similar backgrounds. We attended the same university and the same Christian Fellowship group there. That group taught, explicitly and often, about money. For example, I still remember being blown away by one speaker, a successful business owner, who encouraged us to keep what we needed and give away the rest -- as he did. It turned the whole 10% tithing thing on its head for me and made quite an impression.

Anyway, some of that has 'stuck' in my life and apparently in Sheila's too. Enjoy!

Be Inspired!

I mentioned awhile back that our pastor had shared an inspiring story during his sermon series on giving. Jack sent it along so that I could post it here. It calls me up short in all kinds of ways, including as someone involved in a Christmas hamper program -- what if my hamper makes its recipient feel poorer rather than richer? This generosity thing is sometimes harder than it looks. But I do have to say that this blog has freed me up to make it simpler and more spontaneous too. Hmmmm. Enjoy -- and do chime in with what you think. May we all be conscious of being very rich today.

The Rich Family in Our Church
by Eddie Ogan

I'll never forget Easter, 1946. I was 14, my little sister Ocy 12, and my older sister Darlene 16. We lived at home with our mother, and the four of us knew what it was to do without many things. My dad had died 5 years before, leaving Mom with seven school kids to raise and no money. By 1946, my older sisters were married, and my brothers had left home.

A month before Easter, the pastor of our church announced that a special Easter offering would be taken to help a poor family. He asked everyone to save and give sacrificially. When we got home, we talked about what we could do. We decided to buy 50 pounds of potatoes and live on them for a month. This would allow us to save $20 of our grocery money for the offering.

When we thought that if we kept our electric lights turned out as much as possible and didn't listen to the radio, we'd save money on that month's electric bill. Darlene got as many house and yard cleaning jobs as possible, and both of us babysat for everyone we could. For 15 cents, we could buy enough cotton loops to make three potholders to sell for $1. We made $20 on potholders.

That month was one of the best of our lives. Every day we counted the money to see how much we had saved. At night we'd sit in the dark and talk about how the poor family was going to enjoy having the money the church would give them. We had about 80 people in church, so we figured that whatever amount of money we had to give, the offering would surely be 20 times that much. After all, every Sunday the pastor had reminded everyone to save for the sacrificial offering.

The day before Easter, Ocy and I walked to the grocery store and got the manager to give us three crisp $20 bills and one $10 bill for all our change. We ran all the way home to show Mom and Darlene. We had never had so much money before. That night we were so excited we could hardly sleep. We didn't care that we wouldn't have new clothes for Easter; we had $70 for the sacrificial offering. We could hardly wait to get to church!

On Sunday morning, rain was pouring. We didn't own an umbrella, and the church was over a mile from our home, but it didn't seem to matter how wet we got. Darlene had cardboard in her shoes to fill the holes. The cardboard came apart, and her feet got wet. But we sat in church proudly. I heard some teenagers talking about the Smith girls having on their old dresses. I looked at them in their new clothes, and I felt so rich.

When the sacrificial offering was taken, we were sitting on the second row from the front. Mom put in the $10 bill, and each of us girls put in a $20. As we walked home after church, we sang all the way. At lunch Mom had a surprise for us. She had bought a dozen eggs, and we had boiled Easter eggs with our fried potatoes!

Late that afternoon the minister drove up in his car. Mom went to the door, talked with him for a moment, and then came back with an envelope in her hand. We asked what it was, but she didn't say a word. She opened the envelope and out fell a bunch of money. There were three crisp $20 bills, one $10 bill and seventeen $1 bills. Mom put the money back in the envelope. We didn't talk, just sat and stared at the floor. We had gone from feeling like millionaires to feeling like poor white trash.

We kids had had such a happy life that we felt sorry for anyone who didn't have our mom and dad for parents and a house full of brothers and sisters and other kids visiting constantly. We thought it was fun to share silverware and see whether we got the fork or the spoon that night. We had two knives which we passed around to whoever needed them.

I knew we didn't have a lot of things that other people had, but I'd never thought we were poor. That Easter Day I found out we were. The minister had brought us the money for the poor family, so we must be poor. I didn't like being poor. I looked at my dress and worn-out shoes and felt so ashamed that I didn't want to go back to church. Everyone there probably already knew we were poor! I thought about school. I was in the ninth grade and at the top of my class of over 100 students. I wondered if the kids at school knew we were poor. I decided I could quit school since I had finished the eighth grade. That was all the law required at that time. We sat in silence for a long time. Then it got dark, and we went to bed.

All that week, we girls went to school and came home, and no one talked much. Finally on Saturday, Mom asked us what we wanted to do with the money. What did poor people do with money? We didn't know. We'd never known we were poor.

We didn't want to go to church on Sunday, but Mom said we had to. Although it was a sunny day, we didn't talk on the way. Mom started to sing, but no one joined in and she only sang one verse. At church we had a missionary speaker. He talked about how churches in Africa made buildings out of sun-dried bricks, but they need money to buy roofs. He said $100 would put a roof on a church. The minister said, "Can't we all sacrifice to help these poor people?"

We looked at each other and smiled for the first time in a week. Mom reached into her purse and pulled out the envelope. She passed it to Darlene. Darlene gave it to me, and I handed it to Ocy. Ocy put it in the offering. When the offering was counted, the minister announced that it was a little over $100. The missionary was excited. He hadn't expected such a large offering from our small church. He said, "You must have some rich people in this church."

Suddenly it struck us! We had given $87 of that "little over $100." We were the rich family in the church! Hadn't the missionary said so? From that day on I've never been poor again. I've always remembered how rich I am because I have Jesus.

I've Always Wanted to be a Patroness

It's a tricky thing, navigating the treacherous waters of high school social life. As I sent my eldest off to another day of grade nine today, knowing that she's in the midst of a tough patch with her best friend, I was thankful not to be doing that anymore. I was even more thankful for my own best friend, whom I met in French class on the first day of grade nine, almost (gasp!) 29 years ago.

Susan and I have talked in some way -- by e-mail, telephone, Facebook or notes passed foot-to-foot in History class -- most days since. (My kids refer to her as my 'phone friend'.) In this season of my life, when I have lots of 'proximity friends' from the school or neighbourhood or dance studio, Susan is one of the few people who knows me deeply and well.

Susan is a writer. Writing isn't just her job -- it's her vocation and to some extent her identity. She can't not do it -- that's how I know. And she's really good at it. Sue writes all kinds of things, from newsletters to press releases to articles, but her first love is to write fiction. She's had one of her novels published, called Seeker of Stars, and it was a treat for me to have her as the first author to visit our Book Club in person a few years back. Several of the metaphors so beautifully described in that book still come back to me each Christmas. More recently, Sue has written a gorgeous trilogy, set in Metis, Quebec. She has been diligently looking and patiently waiting for a publisher to pick up these books, and has received some very encouraging rejection letters!

Recently, a new opportunity presented itself to have one of those books reviewed by a skilled team of editors and exposed to some new agents and promising publishers. There is a cost involved in this refining process, and Sue invited me to consider being a "patroness of the arts."

Although that piece of work is quite exciting, other pieces of Sue's life have been really difficult over the last couple of months. Calamities have ranged from the serious to the ridiculous: a sick child, job disappointments, a newborn nephew with daunting special needs, an injured Granny, saying farewell to a cat of 17 years and being bitten by a neighbour's dog -- all within a very short period of time. It feels rather Job-esque, and I'm conscious of not wanting to be as unhelpful and misguided as Job's friends were at times. But, like them, I'd like to be present with Sue through this challenging season and to encourage her in the midst of it -- literally, to impart courage.

This week is for honouring an inspiring individual, and I'm inspired by Sue. By her gift as a writer, as a fellow traveller on this journey with me, and as someone graciously figuring out how to walk with God through whatever life brings. I'm thankful for her influence in my life and on many others', and I'm hopeful that this money will help to get more of her books published. She'd write them anyway...but it's even better if we get to read them too.

Graduating from Parent School

All through high school, my friend Sue and I suspected that there must be a 'Mom School' that everyone's parents secretly attend, because they all seemed to say roughly the same things. When I had my first baby, she found the textbook: How to Mom. Well I guess now I've found the real thing...

I have recently started volunteering at a local pregnancy care centre. When I asked the Executive Director what they were 'short on' these days, I expected her to say diapers or sleepers or office supplies. Instead, she told me that they would love to purchase graduation gifts for a group of moms (and perhaps a dad or grandma or two) who are completing a 13-week parenting class later this month. They've been working on building life skills such as cooking and budgeting and raising resilient kids -- and Sarah wants to recognize them for their commitment to becoming better parents. I appreciated the generosity and fun behind her suggestion. It occurred to me that all of us can learn from the example of these new parents -- would I be as willing as they are to invest in becoming a better-equipped mom? As I do every week here, I feel privileged to contribute toward celebrating their accomplishment. So this month, as many parents applaud the efforts of their grown children walking in their gowns across the stage as they graduate from college or university programs, it is my pleasure to applaud the efforts of these local parents who are willing to work hard to make sure their babies get there. 

To Give or Not to Give...to Japan...that is the Question

My eldest daughter came home with yet another form from school. This time, it was an appeal by the school Board on behalf of the victims of the Japan earthquake and tsunami. The Board was giving families an opportunity to make donations that would be funnelled through a couple of different reputable organizations.

I hadn't yet decided where today's international donation would be going, so in the morning rush I gave my daughter a cheque made out to the Mennonite Central Committee's Japan Relief fund and sent the whole brood off to school. I've always had a lot of respect for MCC as an organization and for the people I've known who have worked there. They have a reputation for thoughtful, practical work meeting basic needs and engaging in peace and social justice work. (They also produce yummy international cookbooks). And I do tend to contribute to relief efforts when natural disasters strike.

So why did I feel uneasy? Was it because it seemed odd to me that the school Board was asking for money for this? (Why not other world needs?) Was it because it was highlighting and therefore endorsing the work of a couple of charities? (Why not others?) Or more fundamentally, was it because it's Japan -- wealthy, organized, well-educated, innovative Japan -- with enough resources to look after itself?

Very soon after, my wise friend Matt posted this link on Facebook. It put words to some of my discomfort -- Japan is not even accepting assistance from the vast majority of countries offering it!  Matt's post also  introduced me to a very interesting site called Good Intents. The headline on the site is "Good donors are the key to good aid" and it follows with this:

"Good intentions are not enough for aid to be successful. If assistance is done poorly it can hurt the very people it is supposed to help. Accurate information and sound practices are also crucial to smart aid. This website provides readers with the knowledge, tools, and resources they need to ensure that their donations match their good intentions."

I then went to the MCC site to find out exactly what they are doing with Japan donations. I was chiding myself for not having looked sooner -- they don't even have programs or staff in Japan! -- but they are giving the donations to like-minded organizations working locally there.

So was I wrong to write a cheque to help the victims of the Japanese earthquake and tsunami? I hope not. It was not my most well-researched donation, and I suspect a chunk of it will end up paying for administrative costs for more than one organization along the way. But suffering is desperately difficult, for rich and poor alike. And the urge to respond to that suffering is one that I want to encourage rather than cynically repress, in myself and in my high schooler. So I think it's OK. Not great, but OK.

It's a tough call. What do you think?

(Thanks to all of you who have passed along your ideas for future weeks. Please don't think I'm ignoring you -- we'll get to them in time. Keep the messages coming!)

The Buzz is Building

It's been an interesting week in my little blogosphere and I thought I'd tell you about it.

1. It turns out that our 'inspiring individual' of March, Rob Hall, was a friend of a friend of another very dear friend of mine. Hadn't made the connection until it was made here, and knowing that God is working in that young man's life has encouraged me as I think about the sadness surrounding Rob's death.

2. I've missed church for the past few weeks and was very glad to get back to Grace on Sunday. Our pastor was finishing up a series on Giving. I had an opportunity to tell the congregation a bit about this blogging journey, but even more importantly I was privileged to hear others' 'defining moments' about giving in their own lives. Such amazing testimonies! I was reminded that giving is an absolute privilege, not least because it sensitizes us to needs. That has certainly been my experience since starting this blog -- I'm on the lookout for ways to bless people, and it's such fun! It's also a privilege because the reason God wants us to give is so that He can give us more and more. That too has been true in our lives, over and over again. Our pastor brought to us the image of a river to depict the Spirit of God -- encouraging us to have the courage to jump in and allow the river to wash us away. This giving journey has been an attempt at that for me, so his message was well timed. So too were the stories shared by others -- I am clearly not alone in this journey! I'm hoping to post a story that was read -- stay tuned for that.

3. JustGivingIt was mentioned in the April 2011 issue of Whole Living magazine, which is the publication that started this whole crazy idea for me. A warm welcome to any new readers who've found us as a result. Feel free to join in the conversation!

Talk to you all on Friday. It's international week and the start of our first five week month.

Building Community in Unexpected Places

In the early days of Just Giving It, I heard from my friend Sarah regarding an upcoming adventure she was excited to be part of. I asked her if she would be willing to write about it here. She sent me the following entry and photos on March 9 -- I've waited to share them with all of you until now since this fourth week of the month is set aside for projects suggested by those of you who read this blog. Here is Sarah's inspiring tale:

"Last month, I was one of a group of 12 disparate people from work  who spent a week in Costa Rica with SOS, helping a group of nine women in a small, remote northwestern village realize their dream. Our task was to help the women’s association of Los Jazmines de Upala create a computer lab in the local school and build a 5m x 8m office on what was, when we arrived, a patch of grass on the brink of a river valley. 

We slept in rows on the floor of the open air community centre. We worked hard. We achieved far more than was expected in the time we had. And, despite the language barrier, we bonded deeply with the women and children of the community.

On the construction front, we earned our stripes with encouragement, in Spanish, from Sergio, the local foreman. With aqui (here), ahi (there) and mas (more), we muddled through. And when we were lacking in the tool department, Sergio had the uncanny ability to fashion almost any implement from a block of wood, three swipes of a machete and two swings of a hammer. 

Today we served up our final SOS lunch – this one free of charge in recognition of the support we received from our fellow Q-mates. And, as more than 60 colleagues gathered, we shared stories, showed slides and gave thanks. We returned to Canada on February 27 but for me, March 9 symbolizes the true end of this journey. We gave our hearts and a week of our time to Los Jazmines and we received many, many gifts in return. But, though we had an inkling of it all along, we had to leave the country to understand that the real gift – the real community we were building – was right here at home."

It is my pleasure to support this exciting initiative. I love the way it uses work and food and students and time together to bridge and build communities. I'm thankful that Sarah is part of mine.

Welcome home to the whole Costa Rica team -- may your global awareness and local camaraderie continue to flourish!