Good golly, I had almost lost touch with my old friend Shortfall. And now that we’re reacquainted, I hope I don’t forget why God introduced us in the first place.

To share some private information, my husband and I are not rich and probably never will be. Careers in public education and freelance ministry have a nicely defined ceiling. We stay out of debt, buy used cars, live within our means, but if you want to know the truth, compared to the global population, we still live like spoiled royalty.

I’d like to say our comfortable life can all be credited to our wisdom, hard work, and restraint, but I know better. I didn’t pick who my parents are, where I was born, and what kind of opportunities I’ve been given. You could say I’ve been a good steward of my gifts, but still—I struck gold the minute I was born. Add to that the enormous blessings of good health, higher education, and a committed husband, and I’ve had a sweet deal going. No self-serving delusions here.

But the last few months, after many years of comfortable living and consistent paychecks, I’ve noticed the ground beneath me starting to crack a little. We’re dumping $80 into my mini-van’s gas tank every week or so, and my oldest daughter’s life experiences (musical instruments? orthodontia?) are foreshadowing a decade of heavy ATM withdrawals. Our careful savings agenda has slowed down considerably, and for the first time since I can remember, I stood in line to buy my groceries yesterday and reconsidered a few unnecessary items moments before they rolled down the conveyer belt. (I secretly hid them in the magazine rack).

It’s a sweet thing to be left wanting. It’s been far too long.

Like a muscle that grows soft without any resistance, I had forgotten what denial feels like. To do some heavy lifting, to hoist that financial weight, to feel the sweat forming on my skin—these are experiences that can reposition us toward heaven and make us fit for something greater. These days, I’m getting stronger.

My husband and I have recently summoned the years past when we relied on creativity rather than the checking account to impress each other. Just last weekend, we forfeited a celebratory weekend at a grand hotel in favor of a homespun date. We sent the kids to friends’ houses, set a card table with fine china and linens in the middle of our garden, listened to Sinatra until the sun went down, and in the morning peddled our cheap mountain bikes to a nearby hill where we wrote letters to each other under a stunning tree less than a mile from our house. I’m inclined to think a healthy economy might just have sabotaged our brilliant $12 weekend.  

We also decided that our ten-year-old son, while still a little short for the lawnmower, is perfectly capable of replacing our twice-monthly yard service. So now he gets a part-time job and the dignity of hard work. I watch him and my husband sweat in the yard together; it’s a beautiful thing.

We have one cell phone for the five of us, no cable TV, and plans to walk to school in the fall. Last weekend we hiked down to a mountain cave and discovered a freezing river that flowed through it like some sort of Disney ride. We stayed the afternoon, daring each other to swim from one end to the next while our legs turned blue from the cold. Nothing Walt and his big budget could have imagined compared to our adventure that day.

If you’re someone who knows what real poverty feels like, looks like, tastes like, you might be disgusted by my descriptions of financial pain. I get it. I know my little charley horse of a set-back sounds pretty whiny when compared to your daily heart attacks. But hey now, don’t be a hater. The principle is what I’m after. Self-sufficiency and excess can make us terribly resistant to God, and that can happen no matter what tax bracket you live in.

I wish I had the maturity to make these decisions without being apprehended by an outside force, but I am not there yet. The apostle Paul (whose “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me” verse is perhaps the most widely misused in all the Bible), challenges believers to learn contentment in the ebb and flow of life. We’re in the lean times right now, when his instructions are particularly appropriate. If my bank account ever fills back up a few years from now, I’ll have to write a blog about a different set of headaches.

But for now, I’d say things are definitely looking up.