When life feels rich, we don’t need riches.
I love limits because they reward me with “the answer.”
Like when there is almost nothing in the kitchen, but inspiration creates an unforeseen original meal that is brimming with flavor and amazement. Or when $10 must purchase a gift for a loved one, and the eyes search - keen and caring – to find a perfect treasure that is symbolically meaningful.
Limits, unlike excessiveness, seem to widen the possibilities with great intention and wonder. Life feels more alive when I dare Almighty Simplicity to create a “big unforeseen something” from “almost nothing.”
As a single mom of a 9-year-old, I had financial limits. It came to a point where I couldn’t afford our housing. I needed more time to find a solution, so I sold my car to cover the next month’s rent – a very big dare.
Here’s what happened: We biked. For two years, my son and I biked 10 miles to school, work, and the grocery store in town. We really got to know each other on our rides. We made up games, shared about life, named the shady trees we rested under… we started to drink from the river instead of a water bottle. We patiently waited for each other at the top of hills. And if we had an argument, one of us would speed up or slow down to get space, but after a while, we’d line our bikes up again and make amends. Basically, we valued each other.
We only went to town when we really needed something. And we only needed what we really needed. We stopped buying heavy things like milk and juice. We spent less money seeking activities and objects. We spent more time exploring the land where we lived. Play dates dissolved. Spontaneity prevailed. People stopped by unannounced and we didn’t have to serve big meals. We just relaxed together with very little pretense.
During those 2 years, I did everything I could to make the carless situation work for us, but occasionally, I found that a car would be really useful. Like when we needed to purchase school supplies 25 miles away. Then, and only then, I would ask a friend if I could borrow their car. Amazingly, numerous people offered that I could borrow their car anytime I needed to. I rarely used one, but this offer opened a doorway to sharing and caring in a larger way.
Once I had communicated my genuine need, my friends felt PERMISSION to share their needs too. In time, I began to hear, “Can you watch our dogs while we are out of town?” (Yes!) “Can you take me to the airport - you can borrow my car while I am away?” (Yes!) “Sorry to call you so late, but can you watch my girls while I go to the ER with my husband?” (Yes!)
It wasn’t a dollar-determined or calculated transaction to be repaid, it was a just a willingness to share honest needs and show up for each other. I learned that all our efforts to be independent are important, and that there is also something really cozy about relying on each other.
The big “unforeseen something” that came from selling our car? Deepened relationships.
Community doesn’t come because we need it.
Community comes because we have a need.
UnderwaterBooks understands that when we keep things simple, great rewards come into play. Our words are spare and carefully chosen so that the reader becomes the designer of the experience. We provide the space for you to discover something meaningful, so you can create your own lens on the world.
