A few years ago, I sat comfortably in my $400,000 Southern California home not believing that this little girl from the country was lucky enough to be living there. I had a brand new truck, and a brand new motorcycle. We hired gardeners to mow our lawn and a maid service to keep the house clean. I had two fairly successful businesses and was in the best emotional and mental condition of my life. I was in love and felt that I was blessed beyond belief.
Then the bottom dropped out and down I fell....hard.
Now I'm back in Appalachia. I live in a modest old farm house, drive a old Geo and struggle to make ends meet. My truck was repossessed, and I have sold everything I can think of to make money. Both my businesses are gone and I work at a coffee shop. I try to make $50 in groceries last a month, don't go anywhere I don't have to in order to save on gas. I keep the heat down to 60 degrees in the winter and in the summer, I use fans when I have to and refuse to turn the air conditioner on. I can't afford to. I try to be creative in order to feed my 20 animals that came back with me from California and look for pet food coupons like they are gold.
And you know what? I am so freakin' happy. I really am. I feel like I have won the lottery. I look out my window and I can't help but think how lucky I am. I have a home I love, animals that I adore and that adore me, loyal friends and family, a job I enjoy, and time to sit down a write every night.
I'm not working myself into the ground like I did in California. I thought I was living in paradise, yet I would work 3 months straight in the summer without a single day off. I never had time to go to the beach because I was working to pay for that $400,000 home as well as the car and motorcycle. Don't get me wrong, I loved my years in California, but change is not always a bad thing.
I have to tell you, it was painful to find this peace of mind. Change is never easy and it is also not easy getting knocked off your horse so you will let go of your pride and be humble again. God can't do much with a prideful person. The thing is, I knew better than to be this way.
I grew up here in Appalachia. I'm just a simple little hillbilly from the valley in Southwest Virginia. We grew up in a house that my parents built by hand. Growing up, my mom stayed up until the wee hours of the morning crying and praying that she could find enough money to pay the bills after my dad, a truck driver, broke his back falling off a building. We barely had enough money for food. We didn't have air conditioning, we used a window fan when it was hot. In the winter, I remember waking up shivering most mornings. Mom would heat the kitchen stove, open its door, and lay my clothes near the heat, so that when I put them on, I would warm up. We had only two television channels, and our water came from a family reservoir that was fed by a mountain stream.
Still, I had it easier than my parents. I remember my parents telling me about walking to school when they were little. My mother had to walk 2 miles even though she had polio and had a brace and crutches. In the winter, for heat, their parents would warm bricks in the fire and put them under the covers near their feet. For food, they ate what they grew and little else. That was life growing up in Appalachia.
And I knew that. Yet I left all that behind when I moved away to California. And that was just stupid.
In doing that, I forgot what was really important. I never allowed my world to quiet down. Life in Southern California is fast and furious. The freeways are clogged and they make having fun a second job. It never slows down. Everyone always has plans for the weekend. There is always something to do. And there is always noise.
Now it is silent. And God can finally get through. Evenings in Appalachia is not about fighting traffic and sitting on the 91 freeway while you try to get home. Its about sitting on the patio, enjoying the breeze and a glass of sweet tea, while you listen to the birds and watch the deer come out of the forest. God can finally pull up a chair and have a chat with me. And that is good.
Today I came home from work to find that my dogs had opened up the only gate that wasn't locked and were running free. Those dogs could have run away to live with someone with more money who could buy them better food and who could afford the heat and air conditioning and fancy dog beds to make them more comfortable. But they didn't. They waited for me. And when they saw me, they ran toward me like I was the best thing they had seen all day. In that moment, I felt like the richest person on earth.
I will be perfectly happy to live in poverty for the rest of my life if it means having these moments. I don't care if I never have a new vehicle, new clothes, or yearly vacations. As long as I have a roof over my head, a way to get to work, and my animals' tummies are full, I will consider myself eternally rich.
Sometimes you have to get the THINGS out of the way, to see that what is valuable can never be bought. It can only be found when you take the time to sit quietly in the shade, enjoy the creation, sip a glass of tea and wait for the Master.
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