Saturday, September 24, 2011
It is pretty difficult to land a teaching gig in January, but I was basically offered my choice of two after student teaching. Lubby already had a job that was getting us by (although barely). We could now have two full-time incomes, but were so used to living on so little we would be able to save up a ton for our move. I fought very hard to stay in Oklahoma for those seven months and start Seminary in the fall.
Lubby felt strongly that God was calling us to move right away, however. So, with tearful submission, I forsook my worldly wisdom and we moved to Texas on a wing and a prayer-- no jobs, no prospects.
I started this blog not long after coming here. If you go back to the very beginning you'll see some of the things we did to get by. I worked as a substitute; I donated plasma; after a month or two, Lubby finally got a job as a waiter at Cracker Barrel. We were living on love and faith, taking just about any job we could to get by.
And we did get by. Eventually we even started to thrive a little bit. And for both of us, those "take whatever you can get" jobs were the avenue for major blessings...
Saturday, September 17, 2011
We were poor, but not miserable. We didn't have cable or Internet (although we had it at school and could sometimes pick up the wifi from the apartment's clubhouse). We got help from family, who occasionally bought us "extravagant" groceries like hot chocolate mixes and paid for our cellphones on their family plan. We even lived with my parents for a while, though that's a whole other story.
One thing that had always been of the utmost importance to me was to stay at home with my kids. Lubby and I talked extensively about our future plans and how we were going to pull that off. We had two more years of school, plus two and a half years of Seminary for him. I would use my degree to work as a teacher while he was in school, then he would take over as provider and I could stay home.
Little did we know all of the adventures we would have in the mean time.
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
I am always a little bit shocked (and dare I say slightly offended) when people are dismissive of the class. I shouldn't be, I know. I'm working on that part. But it always seems the conversation goes like this:
"I'm so excited to start FPU!"
"Oh? I know someone who did that. As for us, we already have it together. We only have one credit card. And I have to have a safe car, but our payment is affordable. We got a great interest rate because we have great credit. But good for you that you're doing it."
Now I know, I know; this person doesn't mean to be as condescending as they are coming across. Really, the sad part is this whole conversation is a product of double ignorance on their part: ignorance of my financial position and ignorance of the freedom that comes with having no payments and cash in the bank.
It seems to me that often people try to defend *not* taking the class when I mention that we're doing it.
The whole thing reminds me of freshman English 102 and our first introduction to Greek tragedy and hubris: that age-old self-pride which tells the hero that he can do it all himself and ultimately-- without fail-- leads to his demise. It is not so much inability, but a refusal to learn. After all, it takes humility to learn; you must admit what you think is correct may not be so.
If you don't take Dave Ramsey's advice, you may still succeed with money. But if your attitude is that of "I have nothing to learn from anybody" you will almost certainly fail at life.
I encourage everyone to take this class. I believe everyone, no matter how successful, can learn something from it. But if you don't want to take the class, please don't act like you've got it all figured out and the rest of us poor plebeians should go ahead.
Friday, August 26, 2011
Isn't it wonderful? That is my life.
For about two weeks I have officially been a home maker. I say two weeks not because I just started, but because two weeks ago summer break ended, teachers returned to work, and I didn't.
Like the hot, miserable soul, I dove into a freezing river.
It is a great and glorious feeling full of excitement mixed with the tiniest twinge of apprehension. The shock-- was this really the best idea? Maybe I'll drown-- perhaps the promise of relief was not worth it after all. But it's the surfacing that makes the whole thing worth while. That deep gasp of breath-- the peace and joy of a risk well-taken.
With all of the costs counted, my husband and I jumped in together. Tonight we will do our first budget in two years that does not include my school checks. And we will swim.
So, as I sit here with my coffee and my cats, it's hard to hear all of those on the bank telling me I shouldn't have jumped. Because in the end, it's a whole other kind of drowning not to jump.