The Joy of Less

by Amy Newmark

  Her shoulders sagged in relief. “So this is fixable?”

  I bit back a laugh, picturing the household disaster areas I regularly helped organize. “Piece of cake,” I said. “Look around and ask yourself, ‘Am I holding on to someone else’s blessing?’ ”

  Her eyes widened as she got it.

  I gestured to the items against the wall. “You can store those things in an armoire.”

  But she shook her head, eyes gleaming. “I’m not holding on to someone else’s blessing. That can all go to Goodwill.”

  She hurried upstairs, grabbed one of the boxes I’d brought, and disappeared into her bedroom. Her muffled voice came from inside the closet: “I’m not about to hold onto someone else’s blessing.”

  I ducked the jet-propelled stream of clothing flying from her hangers into the donation box.

  She emerged and went over her dresser like a magician performing slight-of-hand tricks. Presto chango! One second in the drawer, the next in a donation box. I marveled at her speed.

  After the de-clutter, we tucked crisp sheets on the bed and polished the lovely vintage furniture. I scanned the lemon-scented bedtime oasis and said, “You did a great job.”

  But she grinned. “I’m not stopping yet. I refuse to hold onto someone else’s blessing ever again.”

  She worked with feverish glee, banishing unused items from every area of her home. Everything from purses to exercise equipment to bedding disappeared into donation boxes. My friend dove into the organizing process with the same gusto I displayed when attacking a box of Godiva chocolates.

  I’d never seen anyone part so willingly with so many useful goods.

  “Um, are you sure you want to donate all that?” I asked.

  “Absolutely.” She smiled and gestured to the boxes. “Remember, I’m not holding onto someone else’s blessing.”

  She resumed her gleefully ruthless purge, stopping only when every box overflowed. I asked, “Shall I call a thrift store to pick this up?”

  She shook her head emphatically. “I’m not waiting. This is going now.”

  We shoved the boxes into her SUV and waved goodbye. She drove toward the Goodwill store and I headed home.

  I pulled into my garage and squeezed past a pile of old lumber. Several bags of charcoal blocked my path and I wondered, “When did this place get so messy?”

  I looked around the crowded area and turned “The Question” on myself. “Jeanie, are you holding on to someone else’s blessing?”

  I inspected our home with clutter-demolition in mind. What I saw was dust covered exercise equipment, packed closets and laundry hampers, and stuffed animals staring at me with accusing button eyes from their lonely exile to toy boxes.

  My trademark question, “Are you holding on to someone else’s blessing?” mocked me. Why did I have all this lying around when there were so many people in need?

  I grabbed the phone and called my favorite secondhand shop.

  A bubbly voice answered, “Good afternoon. New Life Thrift Store.”

  “Hi, I’d like to schedule a donation pick-up.”

  The jovial woman asked, “What will you be donating?”

  I closed my eyes as “The Question” echoed in my brain.

  “Blessings,” I answered. “A whole bunch of blessings.”

  ~Jeanie Jacobson

  The Best Choice

  We must be willing to let go of the life we’ve planned, so as to have the life that is waiting for us.

  ~Joseph Campbell

  In May 2015 my family was featured on the cover of the finance section in The Globe and Mail, a national Canadian newspaper. The title of the article, “One family’s downsizing strategy to live within their means,” captured the essence of our family and our recent move to a much smaller home.

  The article struck a chord with Canadian readers, as comments poured in commending our family and our choice to choose a smaller house in favour of financial security and peace of mind. I have never thought that our choice was radical, or our family’s story was special. I’ve always thought that we were just a regular family doing the best that we could with what we had. For us, that meant living in a smaller home, forgoing luxury possessions, and paring down possessions like toys, furniture, and clothes.

  Daniel and I married in May 2011 and spent our first year of marriage in a cozy 400-square-foot apartment. We had to minimize our possessions, take stock of all that we had, and constantly purge the unnecessary.

  By our first wedding anniversary our family had grown to three. We welcomed our baby girl into the world and found a larger home to suit our needs. By the time we found out we were expecting our second child, we had moved once again, to an even bigger and better home.

  Before our third wedding anniversary we realized that we were in over our heads. We were living a lifestyle that we could not maintain, in a home that we could not afford. At this point our credit card debt was mounting, and we knew that we needed to make a change.

  I remember looking around at our large living room and shaking my head in disbelief. When we had moved into this home I’d felt as though I had somehow “made it.” Having a home with multiple bedrooms and bathrooms made me feel like I’d matched my competition. I had become sucked into the western ideals of success and allowed my possessions to define me. In the end, my possessions only caused me anxiety and stress, as they became unmanageable both in expense and time.

  Daniel and I finally decided that we would take the leap. We would move out of our big house, the home that made us feel like we’d made it. We started our search for a smaller home, and found an above ground basement rental that suited our family’s needs perfectly. We also really felt connected to our landlords, a Sri Lankan family who would live above us.

  In the end, my possessions only caused me anxiety and stress, as they became unmanageable both in expense and time.

  Within a few months we had moved into our new rental, and were ready to welcome our second daughter to our family. Georgia was born in May 2014, and we spent the summer making our new house a home for a family of four. We scrolled through Pinterest and dreamed up ways to frugally decorate. Our older daughter, Penny, even tried her hand at painting with Daniel. Penny and Georgia enjoyed the large back yard that we shared with our landlords and their two children.

  Downsizing has allowed us to pay off all our debt. Our expenses are minimal, which allows us freedom to live within our means and not feel suffocated by a budget. When we have an emergency we don’t need to pull out our credit cards, because our lifestyle has allowed us to save.

  Some people still think that we are at a crossroads, just waiting until we can move on to something bigger and better. But, I don’t see our home as a way station. Our home has been a place for us to heal from past mistakes, and to change our definition of what success truly means.

  Yesterday, after a long day at work, I heard a “tap, tap” at my door.

  Penny and Georgia ran to see who it was.

  “Hi Brianna, I had some leftovers from dinner, so I thought I’d bring some over to you.”

  My landlord Udaya passed me a big plate, heaping with mouth-watering Sri Lankan food.

  It’s moments like these that illustrate why downsizing to a basement apartment was the best choice for my family. Because of our choices, my daughters have experienced true community, and I, an unlikely friendship. Some nights when my husband is at work late and I begin to feel lonely, I just listen to the familiar sound of scraping chairs upstairs. Running water and dishes clanking together fuse with my own kitchen clean-up. It’s a comfort, knowing my friend is only one floor up, washing her own dishes, wiping down her own family’s kitchen table.

  Did we get second best when we moved to a smaller house beneath the feet of another family? No, I would argue, we chose community, friendship, and peace of mind. We chose best. Now we’ve really made it.

  ~Brianna Bell

  River Flows in You

  Life is available only
in the present moment. If you abandon the present moment you cannot live the moments of your daily life deeply.

  ~Thich Nhat Hanh

  I looked around the tiny quaint chapel. It seemed like the perfect venue for the music school’s spring recital. The high ceiling with a beautiful glass painting, the gigantic columns that arched gracefully, the dim lights, the magnificent altar and the grand piano that stood on the platform in front of the altar all added a touch of surreal ambience to the recital. It was as if the music to be played by the students was to be an offering to the gods.

  I brimmed with excitement that was laced with a touch of pride, and yet as a mother only could, also experienced the butterflies that flitted in my daughter’s tummy. She was to perform an exquisite composition called “River Flows in You” on the piano. How I loved that melodious piece. I eagerly looked forward to her performance.

  I quickly updated the status on my iPhone: “At a church waiting for my talented kid to perform,” switched it to the vibrate mode and looked through its camera to make sure we could get a good angle and a clear view. After all, I would have to post a video of the performance on Facebook for my family and friends.

  I was glad we had arrived a few minutes early. At least we had the time to choose our seats and soak in the serene atmosphere. I voiced my opinion on the excellent location to my husband. He mumbled in agreement while he keenly looked into his phone to check the latest scores of the Augusta National tournament. He was a little miffed that I had chosen to leave home just as Tiger Woods was teeing off. If only he paid as much attention to me as he did to Tiger Woods’ swing. “A birdie!” he reported. I shook my head. Some things never change. I went back to looking at my phone and checked the time. I had two minutes more until the recital so clicked on the Facebook icon. Fifteen notifications and seven updates? Already? My status update had already received twelve likes and three comments from around the world. Ooh, I felt loved and popular. I proceeded to the home page to check the news feed.

  The first feed — a friend who had changed her profile picture. I was amazed. “Wow! Did she look hot! How could a mom of three young kids possibly find the time and energy to work out and stay in shape?” I felt lousy about myself.

  The self-pity was quickly overcome with hope when I saw the next feed. Guess Facebook was reading my mind. Another friend had shared a blog post: “How to get rid of stubborn belly fat in ten days!” I would definitely have to read that when I got home.

  Next post — 215 pictures of a friend vacationing in Bali. I was awestruck. Another vacation? The crystal blue waters and sandy beaches looked mesmerizing but I didn’t have time to look through the entire album. Honestly, I was a little envious too. It was baffling that she could vacation in an exotic locale so often.

  The next update was a post on a terror attack accompanied by photographs of orphaned children. How could people hate and kill in the name of God? I felt utter disgust and rage for the perpetrators of terror and violence.

  Next was a post on the plane crash in the Alps. The article stated that it was a deliberate attempt by the co-pilot. Sadness for the innocent victims of these incidents filled my heart.

  My husband nudged me gently to let me know the show had begun. I switched back to the video mode to record my daughter and quickly realized that I was no longer brimming with excitement. Too many emotions had made their way through my mind and heart in a matter of seconds. I mechanically turned on the red button and watched through the lens, all the time making sure I was getting the best angle. It didn’t seem too clear. Maybe zooming in would help. I was still adjusting the zoom feature when the phone informed me that the storage capacity was exhausted. I was exasperated!

  It was only when I put the phone away that I engaged my senses fully in the experience.

  I glanced at my husband and saw that he had put away his phone to listen intently with his eyes closed. Rather than prod him to start recording I chose to put away my phone too. And that’s when I experienced it… a soul stirring similar to what I felt when I heard church bells ring. Up until now I had watched the performance from behind the lens for the benefit of my Facebook audience and it had diluted the experience. It was only when I put the phone away that I engaged my senses fully in the experience. Only then did I notice my daughter’s deft fingers flawlessly caress the piano. Only then did I pay attention to her intense expression, a reflection of her focus on the beautiful composition. Only then did I experience the joy she felt as the melody flowed from her heart to reverberate all through the chapel. It was a memorable experience that was captured by my heart, and not by a gadget. How apt that she had chosen to play “River Flows in You” because that day it truly did.

  ~Vidya

  The Last Meal of the Month

  It’s not what you look at that matters, it’s what you see.

  ~Henry David Thoreau

  “What’s for dinner, Mom?” I couldn’t help the smile that broke out on my face upon hearing those words. The last-meal-of-the-month had become an eagerly awaited family adventure and I’ll admit, I enjoyed the challenge.

  “I don’t know,” I answered, “but I’m sure I’ll come up with something.”

  My son watched as I gathered whatever I found lurking in the refrigerator and cupboards and placed them on the counter where my imagination would magically conjure up a dinner plan.

  When we moved back east we simplified our lives. But along with simplicity came sacrifices. Out west I’d helped financially support our family, but now I was a full-time mother. With one meager income and five hungry mouths to feed, plus our pets, we needed a plan.

  We didn’t squabble about a monthly budget. After we paid the bills, we had two hundred dollars left and not a penny more for groceries, paper products, and pet food.

  In a homesteading magazine, I’d read about a family that spent one hundred dollars a month for food. But I hated their suggested menus. Bacon gravy stirred with white rice and fried onions didn’t sound appealing. And while beans and rice are nutritious, I wouldn’t care for them night after night. I’d studied nutrition and insisted that my family would eat healthful meals without feeling as if they had gone without.

  Of course it made sense that the more shopping trips we made, the more money we spent and so we shopped once a month, saving money as well as gasoline.

  In order to shop the best sales we drove an hour away so that we had our choice of three competing grocery chains, all in the same vicinity. We made every penny count.

  Getting the hang of this new system took a while, but if an item wasn’t on the grocery list, we didn’t buy it, period!

  Buying in bulk became a necessity. We made sure we got the most nutritional bang for our buck by cutting out packaged and processed foods. Even the canned soups disappeared, replaced by rich homemade broths and creamy celery, mushroom, or bean soups. Homemade oatmeal, Cream of Wheat, whole grain muffins, or granola replaced boxed cereals. In the summer we gardened, preserving our bounty by canning or freezing our harvest. During the fall and winter I picked delicious greens from a simple cold frame crafted from an old sliding glass door the neighbor had thrown away.

  At the end of the month, when the cupboards seemed bare, I found we had plenty of food left once I figured out how I could “throw” it all together.

  We ate simple foods and only in season. When available, we purchased fruits and vegetables locally, such as potatoes or apples. Sliced potato fries drizzled with oil and seasoning made tastier, healthier fries than the frozen store-bought variety, and baked apples dotted with butter and sprinkled with a little cinnamon and sugar tasted heavenly.

  At the end of the month, when the cupboards seemed bare, I found we had plenty of food left once I figured out how I could “throw” it all together. No recipes here. And while my family should have eagerly awaited that first meal of the month, when the house overflowed with freshly stocked groceries, the last-meal-of-the-month is the one that grabbed all the attention. It became an amus
ing guessing game as the family wondered what concoction I’d come up with next.

  One evening I lovingly placed my last-meal-of-the-month masterpiece on the table. “What’s that?” my kids asked, excitedly anticipating the mystery dinner. As I removed the lid from the casserole I heard, “What’s in it?”

  “Good stuff, that’s what’s in it,” I carefully answered.

  My husband’s face perked up. “Not only does that look delicious, it smells incredible,” he said, sniffing the air.

  The dish looked sensational, with its gorgeous, thick, spicy-green Mexican sauce, sprinkled with shredded cheese, topped with tomatoes and garnished with shredded greens — almost too exquisite to eat.

  But we did eat it. The family devoured the entire meal and insisted I make it again soon.

  As we cleared the table, my daughter asked, “Mom, what was in that sauce?”

  With a smile on my face I proudly answered, “I made it from the leftover green peas.” Judging from my family’s bulging eyeballs and upturned noses I knew I’d made a huge mistake. I promised myself I’d never disclose my secret ingredients again.

  My children are all grown, but today I still grind my wheat, make bread, and buy staples in bulk, although now I can order them online and have them shipped. Out of necessity, we still budget. Today’s food is more expensive and while we occasionally splurge on a few frivolous purchases, for the most part we eat simple, healthful food and spend far less than most people do on groceries.

  Delicious homemade food is one of life’s greatest pleasures and a family tradition, but we keep it simple in our home. And believe it or not, we still eat a few of our favorite last-day-of-the-month, thrown-together meals, including tortilla crumb casserole or deep-dish pizza. Simple doesn’t get any better than that!

  ~Jill Burns

  Slightly Bent Flugelhorn, Best Offer