I'm really going to miss the fact that a can of soda can be a birthday gift here. I love that we have only one car, we walk to school, a luxury splurge is the purchase of parmesan cheese and a big night out on the town is a movie at a friend's house. Living here has been very challenging and difficult, but it has been simple.
I am more than a bit frightened to re-enter the comparatively much easier, yet very consumeristic, fast-pased world of northern New Jersey. Here, just the treat bag at a middle-class child's birthday party is more elaborate than anything most children in Africa have ever seen.
We have always tried our best to embrace a simple lifestyle, but it is harder to do this in complicated surroundings. We love our kids and want them to have great experiences, and so this often involves second-guessing ourselves, being inconsistent and diluting values. I don't mind being "different" and continuing to try and live my missionary lifestyle in the suburbs, but to the teens and pre-teens, different means disastrous. The lines become blurry between "needs" and "wants."
I can remember one of the first times our "other-ness" caused a rift. Emily was in first grade and one of her best friends ate "Lunchables" every day. We refused to buy these, citing the cost and the less-than-ideal nutritional profile. At that age, she accepted our explanations at face value and, parroting our words, somewhat pompously informed her friend that, "Our family chooses to spend money on different things."
Over the years, this desire to keep up with friends has come up again and again: Why don't we have cable? Why can't I get an iPhone? My friend goes to Disney every year - why can't we? Why are we still driving our dented-up mini-van - my friend gets a new car every 2 years? "But Mom, they have a/we don't have a (fill in the blank...pool, dog, Abercrombie wardrobe, etc. etc. ....)"
Most of the time we say, "We can't afford that" and although there is usually an element of truth contained in that response, it goes deeper than that. Even when I have the money, I truly don't want to spend my money on some of these things. Every family budget reflects their values and I want to spend our money on things like educational travel, music lessons, family experiences, and on giving to others. I don't want to feed the engine that is a consumerist economy.
I know there will be a strong culture of entitlement facing my children. Thanks to the power of advertising, kids are bombarded with messages on what they every kid "should" have. And we haven't even entered the era of the prom (and prom-posals?) or the sweet 16 party. It's only going to get more challenging as the kids get older.
I'm already dreading the back-to-school shopping extravaganza in August: the cost, the waste (do they really need a new box of 24 crayons every year?), the desire already for brand names. Oh, how I will miss those HOPAC uniforms.
I am praying that our experiences here have changed us enough to better withstand this siren song of consumerism. I was encouraged a few nights ago, when, while reading "Mallory's Birthday" (a popular set of books for girls), Charlotte expressed disgust for Mallory's desire to celebrate a birthday month, which included a gift every day of the month and a cake every week just for her.
Charlotte stopped reading and said, "Mom, nobody needs a gift every day. She should be happy with what she has." (note - I'm sure that will eventually become the message of the book...we just haven't read that far).
Yet the sad truth is that, even here in Africa, where it's simpler to live and harder to buy stuff, we still managed to do so, in abundance. As we pack up, I am astounded at the amount we've managed to accumulate in just two years...and how much we think we "need," even living 1 kilometer away from a child living in a flimsy mud hut.
Luke 12:15 says, "Watch out! Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; life does not consist in an abundance of possessions."
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