When I have the occasion to read a memoir or biopic, I tend to picture the author sharing his or her story from the point-of-view of being on the other side of all of their struggles.
If it’s a woman author, in my mind, she’s usually wearing a chunky, cozy sweater that looks soft and easy. Her hair is always beautifully styled, and she looks like she smells really nice. Whenever she stops to re-read the paragraph she’s just written, she runs her fingers through her hair, and as her eyes skim over her words, she savors the fact that she’s only recalling her life back when things weren’t as good as they are now…
I suppose it makes sense to picture things this way because when you write a memoir, you’re usually reflecting back from a loftier place, or perhaps a distanced perspective.
Well, please don’t assume that about me. I’m still a mess…
Albeit, I do have some perspective to write about in this blog. But I haven’t had my hair highlighted in more than a year, and while I hope I smell nice (I try), I generally look like I’ve stopped caring about my appearance. Oh, and I own a few cozy sweaters — I’m just not wearing one right now. However, I am like my fantasy author because I do savor my words when I re-read them.
Not because I’m better off today, but because I feel like I’m at least a little wiser than I used to be.
My life continues to be topsy-turvy, and I’m not sure if it’s even proper or right for me to ever expect that it won’t be this way. Maybe my life story will always include some financial struggle. It sure feels that way right now. (Being an entrepreneur is not for weaklings.) The fact is, things have continued to be discouraging for us at times, but Lou and I are still fighting like a couple battle-tested champs.
We can’t help it. This is all we know how to do.
So writing about the early days of our come back has actually been interesting and rather cathartic for me. It’s given me added courage as I take on the latest pivots, and so-called “plot shifts” that God appears to be adding to my life story. I can’t see what’s next for me, and that still bugs me. However, I think I’m a lot better at flying blind than I used to be.
But what I can see now is that things were so much worse for me before I had all of these layers of perspective, examples of faith, and a truer depth of insight to hold me together.
Here’s a fact about the old me:
When I first came to terms with the reality that all of our money was gone, I wanted the life lessons — I welcomed them even. I knew that I didn’t just want to rebuild a life full of “things” and fancy experiences like I had before. I wanted to grow, and become a better person. I wanted to be useful to God.
That being said, I chose to believe that my husband and I would move forward and recover from all of this life-altering financial loss if we just kept our heads down, and if we kept trying. God would bless us again if we learned from our mistakes about wealth, and, if we didn’t let ourselves become spoiled and entitled again.
In the early days, I thought we’d likely go through a few more trials, and maybe even some “tribulations.” I thought we might face some “big” changes that I wouldn’t like; but, I assumed that God would eventually give us back a life that was not all that far off from “comfortable” again. (I must confess… I did develop a lasting taste for the finer things in life when we had money.) But I knew I could be practical enough to forgo the truly decadent things that I once loved so much if it meant moving forward; and, I told myself I’d gladly settle for something a bit less extravagant than what we had before.
In fact, I could see myself happily accepting bargain brand toilet paper — if I had to. And with the exception of Tide Original, I believed I could work with cheaper cleaning supplies (as long as they cleaned well and smelled good) if that’s what it would take to be in good standing with the world again. I could cut back, compromise and humble myself. No problem.
As long as Lou and were healthy and connected, and the place that I lived in could be cleaned to at least a version of my standards, then I could find contentment in pretty much any situation.
