Between Thanksgiving and this coming Monday, when our new refrigerator arrives, my bride and I will have replaced all four major kitchen appliances. These expenditures were practical: Our dishwasher hadn’t worked in a year or more; the electronic oven controls on our gas range worked only if you held your mouth right while pressing the buttons; our microwave struggled to pop popcorn and the range lights quit working; and our refrigerator and freezer gets hot to the touch.
At the same time, new appliances were not entirely necessary. We had, after all, survived a year without a dishwasher; the oven still worked with a little coaxing; the microwave was still quicker than most other options for a wide range of tasks; and thus far, the fridge is still cold inside, if not outside. And plenty of people live quite comfortably without one or more of these devices.
Over the past couple weeks, as we prepare to tackle some home projects and work on my old truck, I convinced my bride to allow me to upgrade our garage. My work has gone well the past year—I’ve picked up a few extra projects and used the money from one such project to purchase some new hand and power tools and organize them. Now, when I have time to work on projects, I spend far less time looking for tools, purchasing cheap tools for particular tasks, setting up, and cleaning up. I can just get to work.
So again, these are practical expenditures—and yet, Jodi and I have been married nearly 30 years, and I have thus far survived with the first rechargeable drill/driver she purchased me after we got married and the hand-me-down sockets and ratchet my dziadzi (Polish for grandpa) gave me as a kid to work on my bike, plus a handful of Craftsman wrenches, pliers, and screwdrivers purchased with money we received for our wedding.
I didn’t need new tools—they just make life easier. I got a new pair of boots, as well, that I wear every day. My feet and back feel great, but I wasn’t incapacitated to begin with.
This past weekend I went out to the garage, opened my thrifted/new-to-me tool chest, and choked up a little. Yes, I’m an emotional guy, and yes, I can’t go into the garage or handle tools without thinking of my late father. But more than that, I feel so blessed. Embarrassingly blessed. I know people right now who have next to nothing and no money to change that. I give of my time, my talents (such as they are), and a small portion of my treasure to help them. And that is good. I have a son, Brother Jude, serving the poor as a Franciscan friar, whose belongings fit in a small backpack and who still conducts regular “poverty checks” to be sure it’s not too much.
Why am I so blessed? How can I justify new, better, more?
I am reminded that Brother Jude has been called to a particular life, a radical poverty that we aren’t all called to. I also reassure myself that we try to tithe and do not spend extravagantly. But the tension is still there, in the wanting, the needing, and the having. And it’s hard to serve those in need from my place of comfort, especially when the circumstances, the rules and regulations, or the neighbors themselves work against it.
In a recent letter, Brother Jude advises, “One of my teachers says we need to live in that tension to survive. If we end up letting one side pull too much, the whole structure could collapse. That won’t make anything easier, but it seems to indicate you’re in the right place, fighting the right battle.”
Another friend simply points out, “It’s good that you recognize you’ve been blessed and that you’re grateful for it.”
So for now, I will try to stay where I am, awestruck and grateful and acutely aware that our blessings are not for us alone, battling the desires and attachments that cause me to want more for myself and my family. Lord, help me grow in temperance and to use Your gifts to advance Your kingdom.