I am in the process of learning that sometimes the good choices we make in life are just as hard to live with as the bad ones. Almost 9 years ago my husband and I took a leap of faith and moved to Northern VA. This was partially choice and partially necessity as I was 6 months pregnant with our first son at the time and the only position Brian was offered that met our needs was in Virginia. Having lived in a large metropolitan area for 5 years (1/2 hour outside of Philly) we thought we were prepared for what awaited us.
Ha. Ha. It is hard to convey to someone who hasn't lived here that living in the area surrounding our nation's capital is not like living in a different country - many times it's like living on a different PLANET! I still find myself experiencing culture shock, and it leaps up to nip me when I least expect it. This is where those good choices we made constantly collide with the world view of the area God has placed us in.
Brian chose to follow his heart and become a music teacher like his dad. We chose to have 3 children. We chose for one of us to be a stay at home parent (it turned out to be me, but who it was didn't concern us.) We recently chose to start paying down our debts rather than continue to live on the knife edge of crisis.
And every single day I struggle to retain perspective on what our choices have brought us. I have to constantly remind myself that somewhere between 80-90% of the world's population would consider us ridiculously wealthy. We live in a clean, modest town house in a decent neighborhood. We own two 11 year old cars that, God willing, we can manage to keep running for several more years. We have two 7-8 year old computers (one purchased used, one salvaged - that both work, at least until technology outpaces them.) The house is furnished, though all the furniture was passed down to us secondhand, with the exception of one or two pieces that were presents and a few storage things we purchased. We always seem to manage to put food on the table and gas in the cars, though most of what we eat is variations of hamburger, chicken, pasta and rice. We have decent clothing to wear, but most of our new things are purchased for us as gifts. God has provided me with dear Christian friends who generously pass on good used clothing for our kids, and I am so grateful to them. No one in either of our home town neighborhoods would have considered any of the circumstances unusual. Rather for many families, this was just normal, everyday life in small town America.
But in this area where (kind of like Texas) everything has to be bigger, better, faster, newer, sleeker, and more expensive - our perfectly ordinary circumstances quite often make me feel like the poor country cousin. I can't tell you how many times I've walked into a friend or acquaintance's home and been stunned by the luxury that surrounds me. Beautiful matching furniture, tasteful art and knicknacks, cutting edge technology, exquisite decor assault my senses from all sides. These folks don't have to stand in the grocery store with a calculator, don't have to agonize between new tires for the car or fixing its air conditioner (a necessity for VA summers), don't have to wonder what they're going to do if the ailing TV, dishwasher, and clothes washer all decide to keel over at once. They don't throw all the summer camp flyers directly into the trash, knowing that such a thing is an unaffordable luxury.
It's enough to make me feel like I'm a foreigner in my own land. I speak a different language than these people. I wrestle with this dichotomy, sometimes daily. I often wonder why God has put me in such a strange position. My spiritual eyes can see that by intentionally living differently we can be salt and light in this jaded city. But many days I'm too caught up in figuring out how we can afford salt and light (the basics of living) for ourselves to wonder whether our light is shining in the dark places of others' lives.
God help me to learn, as the apostle Paul said, contentment in all circumstances....
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