By many standards, I am not a wealthy woman.
I have a great job that will employ me forever, but I am still a working woman; I trot off to work at 0’dark thirty and watch the sun come up on my drive to work.
It is not a thankless job-I get to watch the seasons change; the crops grow and the harvests. I see the jets net the sky with their con trails. I work with some pretty funny characters, so I am endlessly amused all day long.
There has never been a day that I went hungry or wondered where I would put my kids to bed. I pick and choose what I’m going to wear in the morning from my overstuffed walk in closet and at least once a week I toss out food that went bad before we could eat it. I order out Chinese maybe once a week because I’m “too tired” to cook-and that’s an easy $50 out the window.
I have never wanted for anything more than “more” of what I already have. I am… to most of the people in the world,obscenely wealthy…
Today, I wrapped up “good” loaves of bread (as opposed to the cheap stuff), wrapped them in handmade aprons, tucked a letter in the pocket and dropped them off at the women’s shelter,
along with some starter cash–because I’ve been there and really? It was little of nothing to me. I had the fabric in my stash and I had the week off. What else was I going to do with my time?
It meant I couldn’t get my nails and hair done this week. Imagine, that was the price I paid.
Next week, I’m, “giving” up a silly handbag that I don’t need so I can send some goats to Boliva.
I’m skipping a pedicure so I can send some girls some KOTEX for a year so they can go to school AND sending some women a flock of chickens and two ducks. For the price of a pedicure.
And in my family,we live well into our 90’s. I have many more years to do good. makes up for all the evil I’ve done in my life.