Everyday it seems like there’s a new story talking about increases in prices for the average person, or essential services being cut. It’s hard to keep track of exactly how much the grocery budget is changing each month. I keep hearing from people worrying about losing jobs or health insurance. There’s uncertainty around the basic elements of our stability. (For a working definition of the abundance and scarcity terms, look back to this post.)
These seasons of material scarcity are scary. I get it. I’ve lived a decent portion of my life with some financial scarcity and insecurity.
I know what it’s like to stand at a grocery store checkout, with a full cart of essential food stuffs, and hope that my card isn’t declined. And I’ve known the cheek-searing shame of the moments the payments didn’t go through. I’ve sat on the floor with the jar of loose change we kept for emergencies, rolling coins to try to pull together enough money to fill the gas tank. I’ve agonized over the decisions of what bill to pay and what bill to postpone, because there wasn’t enough money in the bank for both.
Scarcity and insecurity are not always the same thing, but when scarcity lingers, we begin to distrust our ability to provide. Insecurity often follows prolonged scarcity. Long scarcity seasons can teach us incredible lessons about using our resources wisely, but they can change they way we view life, too.
When scarcity lingers, we begin to distrust our ability to provide. Insecurity often follows prolonged scarcity.
In the last few years, I’ve experienced more material abundance. The budget is not as tight. There are no difficult decisions about what gets paid and what I risk lapsing. There are more yeses to the things we want on top of what we need. But my mind and body, honed for resource resilience, don’t quite know how to handle the enough of it all.
Two things I’ve observed, related to this:
I have to work hard to let go of control.
After so many years of “scrimping and saving just to get by,”1 it is difficult for me to convince my mind that we are no longer in constant crisis. It took me a long time, for example, to be able to rest into setting up automatic payments. Because there was a time when I couldn’t know if we would have the money to cover the automatic payment on the day it would process. It felt safer (i.e., I was more in control) to manually pay the bills.
That need to maintain control is a hallmark of scarcity, of managing fear. And I wonder how much of abundance vs. scarcity is an exercise in trust. I don’t mean, “do I trust God enough.” But I have an ingrained expectation that it can all disappear. No solution here, just reflection, because this is one I’ll mull over for a long time.
Small moments can still trigger feelings of insecurity.
I still watch the card reader at the grocery store with a little trepidation, waiting for that “APPROVED” message to appear. I don’t know how long it will take for me to believe that things are different now. I have a good job and very steady income. But my feelings don’t know that, and any disruption to the flow in our material life sets me right back in time to the mind of the uncertain single mom trying to hold everything together.
A couple of things have helped with this: 1) I have a strong group of friends who have witnessed the ways I’ve grown and changed. I can tell them anything, and they will remind me of who I am RIGHT NOW. That’s invaluable. 2) I’m in therapy, and learning to recognize the beginning of a trigger before it becomes an internal crisis. I have good skills for coping with the inevitable anxiety response, and language to put to what I’m feeling. It’s a filter for examining whether or not the feeling is true.
Finding the Enough
My mother taught me the most about what it means to have enough.
She was also a single mom, sorting through a life that looked nothing like she thought it would. She made choices and sacrifices to help us both find opportunities to flourish. I learned, by watching her, how to stretch a dollar and prioritize the wants and needs and demands of this life.
Her greatest lesson to me was to look for what God has already done. Look for the promises he has kept, and the surprises I didn’t know I wanted. A story about one of these surprises, and how it brought her continued hope, will be published this fall in Truly Co Magazine - you can subscribe now to make sure you receive it when it ships!
The circumstances didn’t change simply because she spent time reviewing the blessings of God. But her stance in the moment did. She was able to set aside fear and take action that she believed would be right. And this is something I’ve been learning to do over and over again for the last 13 years of my own single parenting journey.
Enough moments are often born, not manufactured.
I’ve seen that enough moments are often born, not manufactured. They happen in living room dance parties, pretzels-dipped-in-frosting-turned-magic-wands for movie night snacks, slowed down conversations about tough days at school and tough moments in friendships, last minute drives to try to find the Northern Lights. I’ve tried to document them in my own way, so that, like Mom, I can remember the feeling of abundance, of enough, when times get tough again.
Scarcity can feel like grasping and pulling the important things close. And I want you to hear that it’s necessary to do that sometimes. Your survival may depend on it. Do what you need to do, but remember to keep your eyes open for the birth of those enough moments. They just may surprise you.
This is a Laura Ingalls Wilder reference, but I couldn’t remember the name of Little House book. But I know young Laura pipes up and tells an acquaintance about how her family is weathering hard times, to her parents’ embarrassment. She liked the sound of the phrase when she heard it, and I liked the way it looked when I read it, and it’s been tucked in my mind for over 40 years.
Having people who know your history is huge.
This is really good timing for a really good reminder. Thanks for this, Andrea.