A CHANGED HEART: Newton Ulysses Crawford, Jr. aka Dad aka Gaffer

“You can love someone so much...

But you can never love people as much

as you can miss them.” ~John Green

          Newton Ulysses Crawford, Jr. was born on March 1, 1948 in Port Hueneme, California. An only child and navy brat, Newton was an international traveler, growing up in exotic locations around the world such as Malta, Japan, Florida, Virginia, and Rhode Island. He was a creative, talented, and intelligent man who could play anything on the piano after hearing it just once.

In the early 70s, he met and married Barbara Ann Cunningham. Always wanting a big family, they soon had four kids, and they moved from place to place in search of work and a place to belong. For a time, they settled in Kansas City where they attended Baptist Temple. 

A round of layoffs at TWA airline in the 70s warranted a move back to Newton’s roots in Cabool, Missouri where he moved his growing family to a white house on a hill of the family farm next to his parent’s white house, both houses built by former generations of Crawfords. For over 150 years, Crawfords have owned, lived, and worked that land.

After a series of jobs as a laborer and a brush with death due to a misdiagnosed case of Rocky Mountain spotted fever, he returned to college and pursued a degree in history at University of Missouri in Rolla. He earned a Master’s degree at Missouri State University and even completed all classes towards a doctorate at University of Missouri in Columbia. With ‘all but dissertation’ credentials, he was able to teach history at various colleges in the vicinity of his home, including Central Texas College, East Central College, Missouri State University in West Plains, and Columbia College. During his 20 plus years of teaching college students, he won Teacher of the Year Award five times.

He also took up running and walking. Tracking his miles daily, he often went a thousand miles a year. After years of running, he realized that he had run enough miles to circumnavigate the equator, and he threw a party to celebrate running Around the World.

Newton had the large family that he always wanted with ten children and twenty grandchildren. He often passed out sweet treats to his grandkids; he recently gave them each a silver dollar from his childhood collection.

With a smile, he recently announced, “I know I have arrived because I have three things: a country club membership, a Cadillac, and a lava lamp.” He was also proud of owning a bulldog that he named Winston after Churchhill, the leader of Great Britain during World War II.

I remember made-up stories of little girls in the woods with bears, dogpiles on daddy, quizzes on literature and art at the dinner table every evening at six o’clock sharp, lists of vocabulary words, detective or road movies, discussions on history and philosophy, fishing at the river or pond, hot summer days of bailing hay on the farm, readings of Eliot’s poetry—“the Rum Tug Tugger is a Curious Cat”— an eclectic array of songs floating through the house, daily pushups, the family singing “Do You Hear What I Hear” as Dad played the piano, and games of Bridge, Pitch, and Cribbage.

Art, music, literature. Literature, music, art. Words, words, words. Every day, all day, he soaked up words as he read at least three books a week—something religious, historical, and light (usually a mystery or detective story). Near his spot at the end of the hand carved, wooden table, Newton always kept an unabridged copy of Webster’s dictionary, and he was a genius with words, holding the title of having the largest working vocabulary. He also had an almost photographic memory.

Newton was both brilliant and eccentric. His traditional garb as a professor was a sports coat over a buttoned down dress shirt, pants, and cowboy boots. When home, he routinely wore shorts, t-shirts, and flip-flops with socks. Newton had an extensive collection of hats, including a fedora, Derby, The Panama, baseball cap, cowboy hat, and tweed or leather driving cap.

Newton lived a life of curiosity and inquiry, always studying, learning, exploring, and researching. His example taught his children to live with open minds and inquisitive spirits.

Near the end of his life, he showed his family the blessing of miracles through a changed heart that revealed a sensitive and sweet spirit, the power of forgiveness, the importance of healing relationships, and the significance of an intimate relationship with God.

As Peter Gabriel sings in “Biko,” “You can blow out a candle, but you can't blow out a fire. Once the flame begins to catch, the wind will blow it higher.” Newton Ulysses Crawford, Jr. has inspired two generations who will always love him and remember him and who will hand down the lessons and love to future generations.

A beloved father and grandfather, an honored professor, a blessed husband, he leaves a legacy of family, of love of literature, art, music, inquiry, and of justice and kindness towards fellow humans.

Letters written by Dad:

January 2001

Dear Children,

I simply must describe the view outside my window. Last night the ice storm brought peril and discomfort, but today’s visual delight actually overcompensates for any storm-related discomfiture…and fills me with a sense of ineffable wonder. Outside…like a barely-recalled print by Currier and Ives…a remarkably transcendent vision. The gray and overcast sky provides a stark contrast to the glistening and translucent wintry landscape. No cows; they are off seeking more basic pleasure in the river bottom…just birds foraging, near the feeder…jays, cardinals, and a pileated woodpecker…skipping about and eating their fill, full of natural gaiety…perhaps not knowing that God provides for the fowls of the air. But what transforms the vignette from an idyllic pastoral scene to an aesthetic marvel is the ice…the crystalline perfection of a bejeweled lattice hanging in front of my window…refracting the faint crepuscular light, and refining it into a landscape that would have defied Michelangelo. Tree branches, heavy laden with a thick coating of ice, bent unnaturally into different shapes, as if they were praying…the Chinese Elm outside my window lowering her branches for me…so I might see the vision of resplendent loveliness, the ground covered with a white carpet that on close inspection proves to be granular sleet…but from my perspective looks like an even field of snow rising in the distance and terminated by a line of trees, which provide a barren backdrop…but in the foreground, the trees around the house look like nature’s necklace, like diamond-coated skeletons frozen in mid-frame while they waltz. Just now, as twilight approaches, a single ray of sunlight penetrates the clouds and illuminates the scene, permeating it with a roseate glow…enlightening the primal wonder of nature, and sending a tendril of joy to my soul. As that last shaft of light descends from heaven, the ice explodes in dizzying resplendence, a cascade of colors beyond the spectrum. Words usually serve me well, but they are inadequate to describe this unutterably lovely tableau…absolutely beyond description and incomprehensibly beautiful…Truly Awesome…But I am reminded that there is one thing that rivals the staggering beauty of nature…only one thing…And that is the solitary human heart…pulsing out its rhythmic tattoo…beating steadily…for the ones it loves.

Dad

March 1, 2001

Dear Children

I think all of us tend to look back on our lives on our birthdays, and solitary reflection is good for the soul…summoning tendrils of sadness and regret…but bringing also joy and the quiet contentment that comes with remembrance of things past. On this day I feel doubly blessed to have lived and loved, and I wanted to share an epiphany that intruded forcibly…bringing the greatest birthday gift imaginable...an ineffable sense of wondrous awe. Hovering always at the periphery of conscious thought is the blessed awareness of the people I love, my fellow traveler through this vale of tears. But this morning, in pensive solitude…I felt you all as a powerful presence…as a celestial choir singing the Happy Birthday song…I truly felt you all as if physically present…our hearts thrumming a delicate refrain of indescribable loveliness. And I thought that there is great beauty in this imperfect world…the indescribably sublime wonders of nature…the unutterable beauty of song…Willie Nelson singing “Always on my Mind”…the baroque counterpoint of Bach…The Winged Victory of Samothrace standing in Majestic grace after 23 centuries…fragments of thought from other fellow travelers we have never met, snatches of incredible poetic utterance…”And the women come and go, Talking of Michelangelo”… fictional characters we feel we know, like Yossarion and stately, plump Buck Mulligan. But shining above all of this with effulgent brightness is the blessed assurance that Love is the one thing that makes life worthwhile. I think there is a certain amount of wisdom that comes naturally as we age and mature, and I think walking for a year in the shadow of darkness has helped me see a great light…like Saul on the road to Damascus…I see how we are transported by love to any earthly paradise beyond description…that love for intimates, affection for friends, and good will towards everybody…redeems our tenuous lives and makes our transient pilgrimage significant. For above all else, I am assured that our love is a pearl of great price, a solitary Rose blooming in a wasteland. I love you, Honey.

Dad

Heart of the Matter

The more I know, the less I understand
And all the things I thought I figured out, I have to learn again
I've been tryin' to get down to the Heart of the Matter
But my will gets weak
And my heart is so shattered
But I think it's about forgiveness

~ India Arie’s “The Heart of the Matter”

I’ve watched friend after friend (writing friends who are also writing teachers, adjuncts) thrown away by their educational institutions in callous and even shocking ways. I’ve felt blessed to continue receiving enough classes to make ends meet (by enough, I mean overloads, as many classes as I could find). Unfortunately, I’ve discovered this semester that my time of overflowing classes is at an end. I haven’t been thrown away like some stories I’ve heard, but I’ve been told in no uncertain terms from the various institutions that I work for that I can no longer have overloads, no matter what (partly because of lower enrollment and partly so that they don't have to pay adjuncts health insurance).

Even with working at more than one institution, this change necessitates changes in our living situation.

Another change in our life has overshadowed everything for the past year: Lexi going off to college. I haven’t written about it because I’m not ready, but the bottom line is this: I am thrilled for Lexi to have the opportunity to live and study in NYC. Yes, I realize that it is a normal and natural cycle of life for her to go off to college and move on with her life, and I support her and let her fly. However, it has changed everything for me and for Laina. It’s like someone came into our home and sucked out a huge chunk of life and energy and who we were. It’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever gone through, and we are still reeling from it and working to adjust.

Furthermore, I am rethinking my career path. I’ve taught for over twenty years and have loved it. I’ve taught people from all over the world and people of all ages. I have a high standard in my classroom, which means that I challenge my students to see, learn, and be more. Not all of them like that. In fact, nowadays most of them hate that.

Recent feedback from a student (printed with permission): “I am almost ashamed to admit that this exercise has left me feeling maudlin.  There are actual tears in my eyes.  I feel like I have wasted so much of my life with unimportant work and petty concerns when what I should have been doing is writing.  I am mortified by my own lack of discipline and I can only hope that it is not too late for me to accomplish something I can be proud to say I have done.  This semester has been the most fulfilling bit of education in my life, despite the fact that I already have an AA degree.  My attitude has always been never to let school get in the way of my education because ninety-nine percent of the drivel I sat through in college felt like remedial classes for high school.  I just seemed to reap more from independently reading on my own.  At first, I found this class daunting.  You want a lot of time and effort from your students, much more than most instructors at this institution.  I am sure that does not sit well with some of your pupils, but I appreciate it greatly.  Thank you.“

Words and students like this make teaching so worthwhile. The thought of giving up teaching breaks my heart; however, the whole climate has changed for educators, even for college instructors, and I have been looking for full-time work for five years now.

Moreover, my high standard also means tons of work for me. This semester alone I have read over one thousand pages of student essays and many more pages of simple assignments along the way (both online and on paper). All of that reading and helping students with their writing interferes with my own writing and creativity. This past month (while in NYC and away from the computer, away from a screen, for most of two weeks), I realized just how much strain my eyes and brain have been under. The crux: I am exhausted and need a real break while I reevaluate and decide where to go from here.

Furthermore, my dad has recently gone on hospice. Again, not something that I am ready to write about because I still have so much processing to do. But, I want to spend time with him and be there for family right now.

Coming to Florida was definitely the right thing five years ago. We have met so many amazing people here and been blessed in so many ways. We have healed and grown and learned so much here, and we have had so many incredible opportunities.

 

Florida 2014

Florida 2009

I am deeply grateful for the friendships and support that we have found here. Words cannot express how much you all mean to me and how you have blessed our hearts and lives with your kindness and love.

I’ve prayed for clarity and answers, and I’ve written hundreds of pages of journal entries the past few months as I sorted out options and the pros and cons of everything. As I processed it all, a few simple truths emerged.

Truth #1: Something has to change.

Truth #2: If I only do the same thing/ask for the same thing (piecing together a living), then I’ll just keep getting the same thing.

Truth #3: I am exhausted from piecing together a living.

Truth #4: We miss family.

I don’t have the answers yet, but I do have the beginnings of a plan. We are packing up this month and going to Missouri to be with my family for the holidays and a couple of months while I finish sorting things out. Transitions are hard, but this is still part of the whole divorce transition. I learned in Divorce Recovery that it generally takes five years after the divorce is officially final to be completely settled again. It’s been three years for me, and I know I’ve come a long way in those three years and am excited to see where the next couple of years take me.

Going through all of this (the divorce, the move away from everyone we knew, the fresh start, the longing for family, my dad’s illness and prognosis, etc.) has taught me so much about the kindness of others and the importance of forgiveness, of letting go. I’ll never forget words that my dad spoke to me over twenty years ago, when I was the one in college. He said, “When it comes down to it, all you’ve got it is your family.” Right now, that is the “heart of the matter,” and I am happy that Laina will have a chance, even for a few months, to be rooted in family, rooted on land that has been in our family for over a hundred years. Nothing can replace a foundation like that.

This is a bittersweet moment as we plan to leave friends who have become family here to go stay with family we have missed there. I don’t know where we will be by summer; we may settle into life in Missouri or return to life in Florida or even begin again some place new. Either way, I am ready for the next adventure.



Newton Ulysses Crawford, the First

On April 5, 1918, Woodrow Wilson was president, and nations around the globe were locked in the campaigns and battles of the First World War.  On that calm spring day in a log cabin on a Missouri farm deep in the Ozark Mountains, a blessed baby boy was delivered into the world by a country doctor who arrived on horse and buggy. Born to Bessie and Homer, Newton Ulysses Crawford, the first child and only son, would see 96 years, some 35,000 days of family, laughter, love. So much change, yet he always approached life as an adventure, even throughout the three wars that he served as a Naval Officer—he was a true war hero who fought with honor in World War II, Korea, and Vietnam.

His father, Homer, was born in an alfalfa field in 1894. His parents worked on the land as farmers except for one year when they lived in town to work in the Brown Shoe factory after it opened. Homer and Bessie had two more children, daughters Dortha and Juanita, and the siblings always got along.

Newton farmed, fished, hunted, and explored the 320 acres of forests, fields, hills, river bottoms, and bluffs. Mostly, he worked with his relatives, plowing fields and hauling hay. In his spare time, he walked to school, starting school at four years because he “fussed and fussed” until they let him and making it through two years of high school. He loved going to school, and recess was his favorite part. His mom sent box lunches with peanut butter and jelly on homemade bread and fruit from the orchard on their property. He walked to school, crossing a swinging bridge over Possum Creek.

He didn’t have shoes and went barefoot most of the time, though wore lace-up boots in the winter. He often walked ten miles back and forth to town. They did not have electricity until after he left home, so he did not grow up listening to music on the radio or watching television. He carried in wood every night for the fire. He said that they normally had cornbread, beans and milk at night and oatmeal on eggs for breakfast while lunch was chicken, squirrel, quail, or pork. They sometimes ate opossum or frog legs. They grew or raised everything they ate except for sugar, salt, and pepper.

On Sunday mornings, he went to church with his family, and afternoons he played games like baseball, horseshoes, jacks, dominoes, and cards. Sometimes, they flew kites, made mud pies, or went roller skating or sledding. They often met for picnics, potlucks, or family reunions.

When he turned 16, his grandpa bought him a tractor to keep him home, safe on the farm for a few more years. But Newton joined the Navy and served for 30 years, traveling the world, surviving three wars, making the highest ranking as a Naval Officer, CWOW4 or Chief Warrant Officer W-4.

Everywhere he went, Newton planted a garden, if he could, and told stories of his gardens in exotic places during his years in the Navy.

Retiring from the military, he spent 30 years as a cattle farmer on his family farm where he lived in a white house built by Crawford hands many years before. Two careers, two lifetimes.

He married his childhood friend, Juanita Allen, the girl from just down the road, on September 30, 1944 at the preacher’s house in Houston. He said about his wife, “she’s the most beautiful thing I ever saw!!  She was really pretty!” Married for 61 years, always together until her death in 2006.

His only son, Newton Ulysses Crawford, Jr. was born on March 1, 1948 in California. Newton, Sr. said, “Newtie was always laughing and having fun.  He liked to have a bath and play in the water.” 

Newton Jr. returned to the family farm with his own family. Another white house that had been built by Crawford hands moved, driven down the roads to the hill, placed next to its match. From one son, 10 grandchildren, 20 great-grandchildren, including Newton Ulysses Crawford III and twenty years later, Newton Ulysses Crawford IV. Newton the First also had a decade plus of being the grandpa next door. We remember playing rook, watching movies, eating holiday meals...every family event, he stood strong and tall; his presence always there, steady, soothing. Most of the time, he wore his three-time war veteran hat, blue jeans, a blue button down work shirt, and brown cowboy boots.

His sun-spotted hands built houses, a family, a farm. Like his mother, Bessie, he lived into his nineties, driving his own car, and living in his own house until the very end. Change, war, loss, laughter, love—through it all he remained kind, with good humor and an optimistic spirit.

The man and the land leave a significant legacy. An honor to his generation, he will be missed. From him, how much we learned. Thank you, Dad, Grandpa, Great-Grandpa, Newton the First, for showing us the value of family, hard work, a positive attitude, and kindheartedness. For displaying the importance of keeping a garden, raising our own food, and taking care of our land. For teaching us to explore the world and live as an adventurer. You will live on in our hearts and minds from a million treasured memories. We love you.

Smart Fun

"Wobble"

          I’ve taught my daughters to have smart fun (at least I hope so!). Case in point: Lexi’s sweet 16 birthday party. Over 50 people attended her party, which was held at a friend’s house in a sleepy neighborhood along a golf course in Suntree, and the teens called it the best party of the year with some saying it was the best party they’d ever been to. They danced, talked, ate, and played games all evening. No drugs, no alcohol, and no smoking. Just good, clean fun! The DJ, Lexi’s dance instructor, was also a police officer, so the party had built-in protection.
          As one of the few adult chaperones, I watched everyone and discovered an interesting phenomenon: many of the public high school students who came to the party (Lexi’s friends from dance) didn’t appear to enjoy the party as much as everyone else for two reasons that I could see. First, they were way too self-conscious, too worried about what everyone else would think and how everyone else might judge them. Not that the homeschooled teens didn’t have doubts, but that they felt comfortable or confident enough to push through those doubts and enjoy the evening. Secondly, many of public school teens arrived partnered up. They brought their boyfriends, and then sat in the corner on their boyfriends’ laps, watching everyone else have fun.
          An important life lesson: you don’t need to have a boyfriend/girlfriend in order to go to a party and have a good time. In fact, you might have more fun going with friends and letting loose.
          This particular party ended at midnight, and just before the witching hour, a cop knocked on the door to make sure that all was well. Luckily, we had the DJ/cop angle to smooth things over, and we were ending the party anyway so everything worked out. It’s not a party until someone calls the cops, the teens joked, but they learned that if you are having clean fun and if you respect those around you, nothing bad happens when the cop shows up.

When we moved to Brevard County over four years ago, Lexi was a homeschooled teenager, and I didn’t want her to miss out on the social aspects of high school like the school dances. So, I worked with another mom, and we put together some homeschool dances. Again, 50 teens, dancing, talking, eating, playing games, having so much fun! Once we had a DJ (same wonderful one) and other times we used a playlist. Whatever we did, the teens had a blast. Lexi began attending the public high school dances for her junior and senior years, and she agrees with the others who said that the dances we threw were much better; however, she is glad that she attended the public school dances for the experience. After all, we never forget our prom nights.

Lexi just told me last night that I would be happy to hear that she stayed in and didn’t go out with her friends. Darling daughter, you missed the entire point of smart fun. I want you to go out with friends, to explore the city, to travel the world. I want you to be adventurous and try new things. Always.

A couple of years ago, I didn’t feel like the girls and I were communicating well regarding hanging out with friends; they thought that I didn’t want them to go out with friends, and I thought that they were being disrespectful. I believed this was an extremely important issue to communicate with them because the friends we choose colors everything else in our lives. So another life lesson: choose good friends! Be very picky about who you hang out with. As the saying goes, we become like the five people we hang out with the most. And, I like how a family friend puts it: YOU are valuable, and the most treasured thing that you have to give is YOU and your time. So, choose wisely. As a mom, I worry, and as a mom in this crazy world, I really worry, and as a single mom, I worry even more. So, I typed up a “contract” that we all agreed on and printed off copies for each of us. Here it is:

Going out with Friends Respectful Boundaries

1.     I WANT you to have time with friends, to hang out with friends, to have fun with friends.

2.    I TRUST you!!! You are amazing, and you will make good choices. Any mistakes you make you will learn from.

3.    It is imperative that you COMMUNICATE with me in a respectful way. Be polite and respectful in your tone and text messages. Please ask before inviting friends over here and before making plans with friends (check the family calendar, etc.). Text me who you are with and where you are because that helps me to not worry. Be home by midnight unless we have agreed on an earlier or later time for some reason.

4.    It is important that FAMILY comes first, including YOU. That means that you do your homework and chores, your RESPONSIBILITIES, BEFORE hanging out with friends. That also means that you incorporate FAMILY time every week or weekend. This is also about having BALANCE in your life.

5.    RESPECT yourself and your own boundaries. Be YOU because you are BEAUTIFUL, AMAZING, INTELLIGENT, TALENTED, and simply WONDERFUL!!

Now I want to reiterate another important life lesson for my daughters: have fun in a smart way! In fact, I review the smart rules with them anytime I drop them off somewhere (county fair, mall, beach, party, etc.), and yes, I also share these rules with their friends. Now that Lexi is going to college in New York City, I review them with her over the phone. If she calls and asks my input, “Mom, should I go out and do X?” Hell, yeah! And, remember the smart rules.

1. Have good, clean fun (which means nothing illegal; for instance, no alcohol, drugs, or smoking). Once you turn 21, enjoy a glass of wine or a bottle of beer if you like, but don’t get wasted. Confession time: I’ve never been drunk. Tipsy, yes. Plastered, no. It’s interesting because anytime any group of friends hears that the first thing they say is that they want to get me drunk (and this includes any church groups I’ve been part of). Even as an adult, I’ve been pressured to give in and get bombed, but you know what, I don’t need to. I honestly believe that I can have fun, a better time even, when sober. Sure, I enjoy having a drink every once in a while; it’s relaxing and lowers inhibitions, but I still know who I am, what I believe, what I am doing, and why I am doing it. Plus, I won’t be the one sick and hung over the next morning, wasting that fresh day.

 2. Stay safe (which means to only go places with friends you can trust, always stay with your group, don’t even go to the bathroom alone, never take drinks from anyone, and never set your drink down unattended and then drink out of it).

3. Stay healthy (which means to take care of yourself on a regular basis, get enough sleep on a weekly basis, eat healthy overall, take good vitamins, etc.). The important thing is what you do most of the time; set a strong foundation for yourself and your world.

4. Always remember who you are and what you believe in. I am a woman of worth and strength and integrity. Say it! Remind yourself every day. When you operate from that truth, then you will try new things and live a courageous and incredible life; however, you will not be swayed by peer pressure or societal expectations or anything other than the truth that you stand on. Along with that comes trusting your instincts.

But whatever you do, be bold, live, and have smart fun! As Eleanor Roosevelt said, “Life must be lived and curiosity kept alive. One must never, for whatever reason, turn [her] back on life.”

A friend mentioned that I should share the “smart fun” idea with others through my blog, hence this post. J Do you do something similar with your teens or have other similar ideas that work well? I would love to hear your thoughts!

Chasing Moonlight

Chasing Moonlight

On the drive home from practice tonight,

the heavy, yellow moon floats,

low and full,

inviting.
 

Caught, we pull over,

stop in the parking lot of our condo complex;

stumbling over rocks and dips in the green grass,

we walk to the lake and search for the moon

past the water fountain,

over the trees,

around the buildings,

through Laina’s tired grumblings.

No moon.

 

Hide and seek.

Catch me if you can.

Go straight, I command,

walking through the field,

the moon…

My foot slides on a slippery, dark object.

I scream.

The girls run so fast to the safety of the parking lot

and artificial lights—

Laina on the concrete, laughing and moaning;

Lexi doubled over with laughter;

I stagger in between laughs and squeals,

hunting always for danger,

until I, too, reach safety.

Drawing deep breaths in between lingering giggles,

we race to the car and pile in.

What did I step on?

“Mom, it’s a snake,” Laina declares. Lexi agrees.

It was flat. Slippery and flat. And it moved.

We ponder the dark possibilities.

I want to see…

“I wanna go home,” Laina wails. “I’m exhausted and sore.”

“I’m game if we stop for shakes,” Lexi adds.

The image of the moon beckons

like a journey too long denied.

Determined to capture a photo of the beauty,

we embark on our own adventure:

chasing moonlight.

 

Down roads,

around houses,

through neighborhoods,

we drive,

capturing glimpses of the round moon.

 

Who else do you know who chases the moon?

“Just you."

My mom would.

I roll down the window;

at another peep of the moon,

I let loose a long howl.

The moon peeks,

creamy and cold;

the moon winks;

brilliant and bright.

We park at a friend’s place near a golf course,

snap photographs

over the alligator infested river

through the light fog, and

the moon sparkles

luminous and low,

so low we reach out and grab hold

of moonlight,

of promise and hope and

of all things lovely and new and good.
 

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.