Growing Up Rich

I grew up in a ramshackle old house. Everything was rather threadbare, but since it was also a great big two-story house, I thought my house was way better than any of those belonging to my friends. After all, their houses were modern and up-to-date but lacking in character (in my childish opinion.) We had  hidden closets, playrooms, a haunted room, and all kinds of other neat stuff. I thought we were rich.

Little did I know that my parents were barely getting by. My daddy was a paraplegic who was hurt in a roping accident as just a young man. My granny who lived with us had dementia and needed a constant caregiver. My mom worked as a clerk at a ladies' shop in town. Life was hard for my parents. But I was sure we were rich and needed nothing.

I sound a little like the church a Laodicea. The difference  is this--I was a child who grew out of that thinking. Now I know that the only thing we were rich in was love and joy and family. There was no money.

But this church thought their wealth made them better than anyone else. They also didn't think they needed anything or anyone else. And that poverty is so much deeper than a poverty of possessions. I will take my childhood any day.

Thank you, Mother and Daddy. You made sure we were always rich in love. I wouldn't trade that for the fanciest house in the country.

"You say, 'I am rich; I have acquired wealth and do not need a thing.' But you do not realize that you are wretched, pitiful, poor, blind and naked." Revelation 3:17




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