What does it mean to be poor?

When I was a child this is what I thought it meant to be poor. I knew that there were poor in places like Africa and India, but I didn't realize there were poor in San Antonio. Probably in the next apartment over from ours. Probably even in our apartment.

When I was 5, our family of 6 lived in a 3 bedroom apartment, that my mother paid for on her $3 an hour wage. My father was an alcoholic and didn't work. He gambled and sucked the life out of our family. But I never knew we were poor because my mother was never poor in spirit--she made sure we ate, we were clean, and we even helped others when we could.

My mother is one of those people who can prepare a feast in 30 minutes when it looks as if there is nothing to eat in the pantry. I've seen her make dolls out of scraps of fabric to sell so that my sister could buy books for college. I've helped her sell used carpet at the flea market, so we could pay the rent. She's resourceful and she's smart and she never let our financial straits cause us to feel as if we were "poor." She might have felt that way herself, but I never knew it.

Today, I had a client come in who struggles so with depression. She has a genuine mental disability that is as of yet never been diagnosed (she is 46). I'm not sure if it is related to early drug use or a head injury or what, but it's there. She is a single mother to two wonderful boys, ages 10 and 7. She lives off of $300 a week in a country where her rent is probably at least $200 a week. She walks everywhere. No car. No phone. But those boys get to school everyday. They are clean. They are polite. She keeps their house tidy and she makes sure to take care of her family. She is poor, but not poor in spirit.

Today I was able to help her with some food. She didn't even ask for it, but I knew she needed it. And I am so blessed that I can help--treating her for no fees and to help her with some food.

DH and I are barely able to pay bills, but we manage well enough. We don't go without much. In fact if we were better at budgeting we could probably even save money. We qualify for a "community services card." Which just means we get cheaper medical care at the GP, don't pay for prescriptions, etc. But our GP doesn't charge us anyway.

What I have realized over and over again recently is--we are SO NOT POOR! We are so BLESSED! We eat (in fact we eat too much). We have a safe, nice, lovely home. We have pets. Our children never go without clothes, food, toys, and even the occasional fun trip. We don't have to choose between school camps and food. We're not even selling used carpet at the flea market. We may not have $3600 sitting around (even on a credit card) to send me to America, but are so far from poor! Part of that is because we are in a church family that loves and supports us, and our actual families (parents) love and support us as well--sometimes even with money.

My church has said--go to America and see your brother, it's important. Don't worry about the money. We will help. So, I am going. Hoping to get my passport back any day now so I can go. People have stepped up to help take care of the kids and DH. I am not poor!

Martin, my brother, lives in a million $ home the remnant of his life before his illness. Probably mortgaged to the max because they have kept their business going during his illness and in the bad economy by using their credit cards. He has two children in college (getting financial aid, but not having to work or pay for a thing themselves) and one child who graduated from college last year. His wife works full time. They have one car that runs. They have clothes on their backs. They have food to eat. They have excellent medical insurance. They have pets. They have families that love them. But they are so poor. Poor in spirit!

He is so sick, probably dying. He is so angry that he cannot even enjoy his family. Instead of loving them and appreciating them--he yells and he is mean. Today, his mother-in-law died suddenly. As if they didn't have enough going on in their lives, now my sister-in-law has to bury her mother. And still he is poor.

I am so broken hearted for them. I know about suffering. I do. But I also know that the only way to live--really live--is to focus on the blessings. Everyone, even my client with no food--has them. That's what our mother did when we were growing up. That's why we never knew just how poor we were. I've been angry over abuse I have suffered or babies I have lost or infertility or infidelity. I'm not a Pollyanna person. I am a real person. But still I know--even without God--we have to focus on what is good, right, peaceful. We have to be thankful for each other and love each other as best that we can. Or else we end up like my brother--so angry. And now one of the best women in his life, someone who has been a part of our family for over 30 years--is gone. She's just gone. How sad that Nancy died while Martin was still so sick and so deep in his anger.

You can be rich and still be poor. You can be poor and still be so rich. I hope that I never forget how rich I am.