24 Aug The Grace of Enough

For me, this has been the Summer of Sufficiency. Like most moms—and probably like you, too—I am always on the lookout for better and more thoughtful ways of doing things: running my household, teaching my children, opportunities I want then to have and experiences for them I want to help make possible. This summer, though, I’ve had a big revelation about already having what I need. And I am reveling in the stillness I am finding.

The best way I can describe what this feeling is like is by way of metaphor: About ten years ago, my husband planted a rose bush on the northeast corner of our house, during a phase when we were trying to “fix up” our yard’s basically nonexistent landscaping.

Early on, it became clear that there was not enough sun on that part of the yard for the bush to explode into bloom. It didn’t occur to us to perhaps move the bush to somewhere sunnier—we were not experienced gardeners.

By the time that occurred as an option, though, something else happened: Every so often, a rose would bloom anyway. Each year as summer’s heat descended, I’d prune the branches to encourage them to grow, and scatter eggshells at the root because I’d heard that was good, and free, fertilizer.

But it would be weeks and weeks of sun and heat and rain before I might, might, spy a bud at the end of a stem that would flower into a coral corona. There have been years when there have been no buds at at all, and in a bumper year, perhaps two.

It is enough. The delight I’ve experienced in the one flower outranks just about all the bouquets I’ve ever received.

I don’t know why it’s turned about to be this summer that I’ve tried to find the same joyful sufficiency in everything, as a way of both simplifying life and glorifying God. But I’m increasingly trying to use it as a discipline for just about everything. Just one example: we’d come back from vacation and had little food in the house, and rather than heading out to the store, I scrounged up a box of spaghetti and a forlorn tomato, and tossed them both over the stove with some olive oil and precious and luxurious cheese I’d happened to bring back from vacation that I otherwise might be waiting for the “right” chance to use. (Serendipitously, what I came up with was an adaptation of a famous brie pasta dish from the Silver Palate Cookbook?)

It was delicious.

Cultivating Sufficiency

I’m not an especial spendthrift—though I am not all that frugal, either—but examining my life by this criterion has revealed the extent to which I invent unnecessary errands and expenditures: How many of us find reasons to go spend money on home organizational products in order to save money? Or go to buy just the right vegetables for that healthy dinner when there are vegetables going unused in the crisper?

A week ago, I noticed we had yeast, flour, and eggs, and was able to make two giant braided loaves of challah bread without leaving the house. Now my son wants me to make it regularly—for this working-outside-the-home mom, it’s nice to know how easy it is to make and how little time it takes.

And cultivating sufficiency is a great practice to employ with children on those long summer days when they are bored—what random craft supplies are in the house? If you’re in the car, why not sing songs rather than put on a video or give your child your phone? (I have a too-cool-for-school teenager, and while I probably can’t get him to sing, I can get him to make up goofy jokes or make up stories about things we see on the side of the road.

Ultimately, trying to keep it simple and be sufficient is returning me to a richer observance of the Sabbath. I’ve long ceased doing any recreational shopping on Sundays, and I’m trying to plan better about necessary trips as well. My goal for the family is, like my Jewish friends, not to handle money at all.

How better to take time weekly to realize the essential truth that all of us have read in 2 Corinthians?

And he said unto me, My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness. Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me.

Questions for Reflection:

You’re probably pretty good already at telling your children to go find something to do when they get bored. But how much do you fill moments of silence and uncertainty by inventing a “quick trip to the store,” or finding an excuse to look something up on your phone—even something ostensibly good, like money-saving advice or downloadable education materials? Take a morning or a day, and write down every time you behave as though you don’t have everything you need. (This obviously doesn’t apply if you really do need food or household supplies.) Where are the big areas where you think that you can do what you want, “if only” you had or could buy—is there something you already have you could use?

Discuss with your friends in the faith how to “one another” your gifts and possessions to share these with each other, so that you aren’t always trying to find reasons to “do it yourself.”