I had a really tough day on Saturday.
But I guess I should go back to the beginning.
Last Friday the girls and I decided to strike out and walk the distance from our house to the nearest Target. I thought, why not get some exercise and fresh air, take a stroll through the posh neighborhood next to ours, and end up at my favorite store as the hard earned reward??
Almost 5 miles later, my trip to and from Target was more eye-opening than I imagined.
It was awesome to walk as if I was still in the city – having a destination always helps, in my point of view – and it brought back so many memories of my weekly trips up Lincoln Ave. to the Trader Joe’s. It was crisp outside and the sky was as blue as it could be. We even stopped at a park so that Charlie could play for a bit. I sat on a bench and took in all the sights and sounds of my new surroundings.
And as we left Target and started our trek back home, I took my time strolling through the neighboring subdivision.
The homes start in the 450’s. Start. Meaning that they go upwards of a cool million.
To be honest, I’m used to seeing these kinds of homes in the city – single family homes are not uncommon where we used to live. But here in Texas, where bigger is (I guess) better, a cool million gets you a home the size of a football stadium.
I tried not to stare – and as Charlie pointed out all the trucks of men hanging Christmas lights on various homes (yes, apparently a lot of folks hire people to do this, which puzzles Vann to no end) – I found myself lingering in front of the beautiful tudor-style homes; pale, pale stone, turreted rooms, 3 car garages with yards that go on for miles…and presumably custom all the way – chef’s kitchens, hand-scraped hardwood floors, you name it.
I bring this all up to say that it dawned on me that as I was walking I was coveting what these people have. Truly. Coveting the next thing – totally ignoring our own beautiful new (to us) home and all of our dreams for it – and thinking, “So in our next house…”
I called Vann, breathless, as if I’d discovered the cure for cancer, talking a mile a minute about what I was seeing.
And you know what I learned??
It’s never enough.
And my perception of these people in these million dollar homes? Well, chances are it’s never enough for them either.
This past year I’ve spent so much time pining for the simple pleasures of owning a home: my own washer and dryer, a parking spot that we don’t share with someone else, a fireplace.
And all I can think about…is what I don’t have.
The devil LOVES that, doesn’t he??
He loves making you feel small…making you feel as though what you are and what you have is never enough, doesn’t he??
And so the myth of this financial perfection lives on…and I fall for it every time. If you live in a house like that, you must be perfect. Your life is perfect.
If you are a celebrity, you don’t have to shop at Ikea.
If you are dropping thousands of dollars shopping out of the Neiman Marcus Christmas book, well then you must have more than $100 in your savings account.
All lies.
All pieces of the devil’s puzzle of discontent. Sounds like a movie, right? Or a novel…
At any rate, as I pulled around the corner of our subdivision and walked up my street, I looked at our beautiful house and wondered what person needed more than that. Truly, how can that not be enough?