This year has been particularly difficult, as I cut back my working hours in order to complete the heavy Practicum requirements this year. This has meant a serious dent to the family finances, and several times, we've dodged the proverbial bullet when it came to drowning in debt, only managing to lift our heads momentarily to gasp a quick lungful of air before being pulled into the muddy depths of poverty.
Yes, there were times of total despair, like the week the electricity was disconnected, our phone services were 'suspended pending payment of account', and the horror of opening the door to the Sheriff, who had arrived not to share afternoon tea, but to serve us with papers for non-payment of Council rates. I guess you could say that was a low point. Having less income to buy 'things' has certainly been a challenge, but it has also provided us with quite a few blessings, the most important one being the discovery of simple joys, the moments money simply can't buy.
Take the trip to Coochiemudlo Island a few months back. We scraped together the ferry fare and $8 for a bottle of 'Cleanskin' red wine, packed a couple of wedges of cheese and a packet of crackers, and headed off on our journey. Sitting on a secluded beach, enjoying our 'povo picnic', sharing family time uninterrupted by computer games or TV shows was pure bliss. Previously, we would have been more likely to book a table at the local restaurant and enjoyed the 'serenity' of the island amongst the symphony of clattering dishes, noisy patrons, and the smell of fried food rather than the scent of the ocean on the breeze. We found a new way of connecting with each other, rather than just 'being together', and are far richer for it.
Mealtimes have also benefited from our reduced finances - not to mention the environment. Leftovers are reincarnated into another meal, rather than being scraped into the bin. We weeded the abandoned vegie garden and have enjoyed an abundance of salad vegies, asian greens, and delicious herbs, all picked only moments before eating them. We only buy what we need, so the 'science experiments' of fruits and vegetables fermenting in the bottom of the crisper are far less frequent - something my nose and delicate stomach are eternally grateful for! Meat is a luxury we still enjoy, but in far smaller portions, our plates now enjoying a much healthier balance of vegetables, salads and grains to compensate for the massive steaks that used to grace them. There is still a box of convenience snack-foods for school lunch boxes, but they have to last all month rather than just a week, so homemade biscuits, cakes, and muffins have replaced prepackaged 'junk food'. Small steps, big differences.
Throughout the 4 years of study my family has endured alongside me, I have often dreamed of the celebratory dinner we would have when I received my first teaching pay packet. Having much less these past 12 months has taught me that whilst luxury items are certainly desirable and enjoyable, they tend to create a superficial way of life. I look around at my wealthier friends and see them filling the emptiness of their lives with 'things' - they strive and save for that coveted large-screen plasma TV, only to have it superceded a couple of months later, so they need to strive and save to upgrade. They plan their holiday destinations around places that have 'Kid's Clubs' so their children are looked after by strangers, so they can lie beside the pool and read, uninterrupted by the little Gribbles. Wardrobes are full of last season's discarded clothes while hundreds of dollars are spent on the latest fashion items.
It shames me to admit this was a lifestyle my family and I shared pre-'povo' times. Yes, it was nice to be able to purchase lovely things without thinking twice about what else I could do with the money. But penny-pinching has taught me that wasting money on frivolous crap just creates a greater hunger for more frivolous crap to fill the emptiness of an unfulfilled life. It's lovely to have, but it simply has no real substance - it's only 'new' for a day or two, then something 'shinier' catches your eye. It's like chasing butterflies - they're beautiful to look at, but wouldn't you rather experience life as a butterfly, rather than simply envying it's beauty and freedom?
I certainly enjoy the freedom money provides - having enough to pay the bills without giving them a second thought, or juggling them to keep debtors happy while trying to scrape together enough to pay the balance before the next one is due. But I hope I retain the healthy respect the past 12 months have taught me - money doesn't buy happiness, but it can provide the foil for experiences that create memories that last a lifetime.
So, what about that celebratory dinner with my first pay-cheque? Instead of spending $100's on an extravagant meal, I think we'll spend the money on a beach shack on Coochie, take a bottle of $8 Cleanskin wine & a picnic basket of goodies, and create some beautiful family memories. Stay tuned for the photos!
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