Feel the Money, Part Three: Pay it Forward

          For some reason, this is the most difficult blog entry of this series to write. Partly because I have been in a funk (a creative word for being depressed), which means that I don’t want to write and I don’t want to expend any extra energy, and partly because I have been so busy. But mostly because everything that happened, everything that I want to express, is still swirling in my mind like an untamed wind.

For the past month, I have watched and waited for the moment when I felt led to give the cash provided by the church, praying for the right person at the right time in the right place. On the one hand, I know that it could have been anyone one at any time in any place; however, I wanted the giving to matter.

          In the meantime, a lot has happened.

To begin with, someone from our church helped us. One Sunday night after we had arrived home from Momentum, extra cash magically appeared in our workbook. I was surprised yet grateful. Because I wanted my giving to matter, I decided that this giving had to matter as well; therefore, I put half of it towards the $1000 emergency fund that Dave Ramsey says is the first step. It felt good to have a little bit of a buffer—safer and more secure having even a small amount of savings. We used the other half for groceries.

At the same time, I wanted to honor the gift that person had chosen to offer us: the gift of consideration and kindness and the spirit of paying it forward. I was inspired; thus, I decided to use some of my next paycheck to help someone else. During this whole process, I’ve asked my daughters for ideas of who and when and where to help, and Laina asked over and over again for us to help a friend of hers go to the homecoming dance at high school. We had a conversation about how the dance was a want, not a need and how I felt led to use the church’s money for needs, not wants. Still, I could tell that it was important for Laina to help her friend, and we also discussed the importance of finding balance between our needs and wants. In other words, sometimes prioritizing fun. So, we all worked together. Lexi found an old (but beautiful and very nice) Dillard’s dress in her closet that she offered to give away, so we invited the friend over to try it on. The dress fit perfectly, and she looked radiant and so excited to have a lovely dress. Then, I provided the money from my own income for Laina to purchase her and her friend tickets to the dance. They were so happy for the opportunity and had a wonderful evening.

And then, Lexi went away to college in NYC, which is awesome and amazing, I know. I am very happy for Lexi and love that she is living her dream. And yet. Yet. Yet. I’m not ready to write about it, but this is the cause of the current funk and is so difficult.

On a positive note, Lexi has a “host” family in NYC who has been so kind, welcoming, and giving to her. Also, many family and friends have sent Lexi cards and notes and even gift cards and goodies since she has arrived at college, and she says that the other students remark on how often she gets packages. We are so thankful for all of you and feel so blessed!

Lexi flew to NY on a Monday, and that same week I prepared a presentation for an out of town conference for work. During those preparations, I was offered an extra, last-minute eight-week class. I am beyond grateful for the opportunity, which is definitely an answer to my prayers. Now I not only have enough to make ends meet but also have extra, and I am thankful. Still, I had to quickly prepare a new class during the same week as the conference, which was stressful to say the least.

I wonder how much connection there is between my giving to Laina’s friend and then receiving to help my girls?!

Weekend before last, I finally saw what I had been waiting for—a sign. I had just ordered a meal for myself, and behind me, I saw a woman counting out one dollar bills. It appeared as though she was worried she might not have enough, so when she ordered, I said that I wanted to pay for her meal. At first, she viewed me with disbelief, but I repeated it.

“I shouldn’t let you do that,” she said.

With her words, it struck me: receiving is hard. Often times we like the power and control of being the one to give. Just recently, a family friend said to me, “Be a good receiver, Rachel. That’s also a Christian virtue.” At the time, I brushed it aside, but now I thought, maybe he was right.

I convinced the woman that I really wanted to pay for her meal, that all I asked was for her to ‘pay it forward’ someday, and told her to order whatever she wanted. She said that what she’d already ordered was fine, but as I paid, she thanked me profusely, saying, “You’ve just made my day.” She turned to the cashier and nearly shouted, “She’s paying for my meal. Can you believe it?!” This woman was extremely grateful and that felt fantastic. As we got our meal and went our separate ways, I discovered that I was beaming. I also left a $20 tip for the waitress.

The most amazing thing was how paying it forward made me feel, and I finally got it. One woman left with a free meal while the other left with $20 cash, but I was the real winner that day because I left feeling full. In that moment and for the rest of that day, my heart felt full, my life felt full, and I felt full.

Paying it forward will be a vital part of our lives in this household: both as givers and receivers. When we receive, we not only get the help/kindness/money/stuff, but we also allow other people’s hearts and lives to become fuller. When we give, we not only have fuller hearts and lives, but we also allow others the chance for, perhaps, much needed kindness/help/money/stuff.

Paying it forward is a win-win.

Side note: The rest of the church’s cash stayed with me for another week, and last weekend, I used it to provide groceries for a single mom and her family. Without that money, they would not have had groceries for lunches this week. Again, giving not only literally helped that family, but it also filled up our hearts and lives for another week.

The FinancialPeace University class is now over. While I was too overwhelmed/down to attend the last few classes, I learned so much from the first half that I want to take the entire class again this spring and continue learning and applying this information. I am continuing to save towards a $1000 emergency fund and am still using cash to pay for gas and groceries every week rather than swiping the debit card with no thought. I practice feeling the money and am much more conscious of what I am spending and what my priorities and motivations are. Ultimately, I am beginning to change to more positive spending, saving, giving habits, and I am enjoying the process. While I am definitely not yet debt free, I have more of a sense of hope and peace regarding current money habits and future financial freedom.

“Some Good in This World”

          First thing Monday morning I had errands to run, so I walked the dogs and then took them with me. When we returned, a friend from Divorce Recovery brought over supplies and filled in the bite marks and scratches in the bathroom, peeled off more paint, sanded everything, and then painted it all to match. The bathroom looks decent again, and the friend refused to let me reimburse for the supplies or pay for the labor. I am awed by all of the kind people around and by God’s work in our lives.
          By the time the girls arrived home from school that afternoon, the bathroom was finished and the cats and dogs had settled into a tentative truce. I sat on the couch with my laptop resting on my lap and Piper sitting across my chest and arms. Yes, both of our cats love plopping onto my arms while I am at the computer.  Sam lay next to me on the couch, his hip pressed against my leg, and Thorin rested at my feet.  Zeus perched on the top of the sofa, content to look down on the rest of us.
          A phone call changed everything.
          We were all settling in, fitting together, knitting a new life when a lady called me earlier that afternoon to ask about Sam. She'd seen the information the woman from church had put out last week.  If Sam still needed a home, she had someone interested.  Could she give him my number?  Within an hour, Tom* called, and he sounded perfect for Sam. A positive solution. A resolution. An answered prayer.
          I stop typing and place my face in my hands. How do I explain this?  What words describe the conflicting emotions rolling through me still?  Joy for answered prayers, raw from hurt, heartbroken for my girls, happy for Sam, sad for Thorin, the list goes on...
          Tom explained that he'd raised a chocolate lab from a puppy to thirteen years. Tom's mom had recently beat cancer, and the lab had helped her have a reason to get out of bed again. Three weeks ago, their lab died. Three weeks ago, Sam traveled to Florida.
          They were looking for another lab, a mature lab, a lab that would be loved and rarely left alone. When not with Tom at his house, the lab would be with his mom who has a huge fenced in backyard and a mountain of dog toys. The lab would be spoiled; the lab would be a blessing to them. Could we bring Sam over tonight?
          "Do you promise if it doesn't work out you will call me and not drop him off somewhere?"
          "I would never do that. The only way it wouldn't work is if he bit someone. I'd never."
          Tom even asked if we were okay; he couldn't imagine having a lab for six years and having to let him go. He offered for us to keep in contact, to have play dates with Sam, and continue to be part of his life.
          We agreed to meet that evening and see. 

          
I remember when we first met Sam, a tiny black puppy.  The runt of the litter, he made up for size with a big heart.  From the first moment we met him, we loved him.  Laina smuggled him into her room to play, saying she was keeping him forever.  Even then, I argued against adding another responsibility to our life.  The others convinced me.  Sam and his sweet spirit convinced me.  The fact that I’d always longed for a lab convinced me.  We paid for him and kept him with us that very day. From then on, he was part of our family, and we named him after Samwise Gamgee, Frodo’s faithful and loyal friend, thinking of Sam’s speech of friendship and hope to Frodo at the end of The Two Towers:

Frodo: I can't do this, Sam.
Sam: I know. It's all wrong. By rights we shouldn't even be here. But we are. It's like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger, they were. And sometimes you didn't want to know the end. Because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened? But in the end, it's only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you. That meant something, even if you were too small to understand why. But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back, only they didn't. They kept going. Because they were holding on to something.
Frodo: What are we holding onto, Sam?
Sam: That there's some good in this world, Mr. Frodo... and it's worth fighting for.

After picking Lexi up from work, we drive to Tom's house, which is only 15 minutes from our place. The girls cry the whole way, and I feel a knot in my chest.  

We walk into the gorgeous, huge tan house, and Sam instantly explores everywhere.  I chatter away, trying to cram six years of love into a five minute bio. When I mention that Sam loves water, Tom says he has water in his backyard, "You don't think he'll jump in, do you?" I ask what kind of water, and he says "brackish" and opens the back door that looks out onto a beautiful deck with a bar and hot tub.  Sam dashes out and races away. We all chase after him—his favorite game. Tom and Laina are ahead while Lexi and I walk slower with Thorin.

"Why'd you mess it up, Mom? How could you do that? He's not gonna want him now" Lexi snaps at me.

"Stop it. I know you're hurting, but it's not okay to take it out on me."

We walk the block and see no sign of Sam. The girls wait on the deck while Tom and I drive around. On the way back, we find Sam racing down the street. When I holler, he runs straight to my window.  I open the door, and he throws himself into the car, half on my lap, panting and looking so happy.  We return to the house and let him explore. "Do you still want him?"

"Yes."

I realize that I forgot to bring a bone for Sam, so Tom runs to Publix while we wait with the dogs. He returns with $50 worth of dog food, bones, and toys. He opens one and squeezes it, hiding it from Sam. Sam's tail is wagging as he dances around and snatches the toy. He runs to his spot on the rug in front of the large screen TV and proceeds to destroy the toy in less than five minutes. Tom laughs, rubs Sam's head, and hands him another toy.

Finally, we have to say goodbye, and we leave quickly. Goodbye, but only for now. We have agreed for Sam to stay with him this week, and we'll pick him up Friday to spend the weekend with him. We want to see with our own eyes that he's healthy and happy in three days. We want to see what our life will be like without him, now that we are used to him again. We want to see how Thorin will react being separated.  We want more time.

The ride home is long and hard. With blocks on our chests and tears rolling down our cheeks, we all loudly protest leaving him behind.

Once home, I text Tom to check on Sam, and his text affirms: Tail wagging chewing bone. Lying on carpet. I'm lying on floor next to him.

It's supposed to be us there on the floor with Sam and his wagging tail.

*Name changed for privacy.