More-month-than-money. The experts say it happens to most of us at one time or another. What's a family to do? I wish I could share that we never run out of cash before payday, that our life is always smooth sailing and I've learned how to handle money in such a way that we have no money-related challenges… but if I did, I'd be lying, Even when I was working full time during the mid-nineties our finances seemed tight.
Then, in April of 1998 I made the transition from working mother back to stay-at-home mom. At the time we had four Meat-a-saurus sons, aged 9 to 16, to raise and, while I loved being at home with the boys, I felt like I'd been torn in two. My salary had been a huge chunk of our income and I sorely missed the spending power that a paycheck had given me.
It's been nearly seven years now and, by the Grace of God, I'm still a full-time mom, but I have to admit that days (weeks… years?) ended up being spent in a mental wrestling match because my wants, hopes, and dreams seemed continually at odds with our bank balance — or lack thereof. Consequently, managing our finances turned into an overwhelming, energy-sapping battle. It wasn't that we didn't have any money — it's that I felt there never seemed to be enough.
In order to make ends meet I started to scrimp and save. My answer to any given question about finances: We can't afford it. I was committed to staying home with my boys, but my attitude about our cash flow went from bad to worse as I felt more and more compelled to do without, pinch pennies, even to wear underwear far past its prime (how many holes should panties have before I throw 'em out, anyway?). I tried a part time job for a couple of years, but it interfered too much with homeschooling. Then I sold crafts at a local bazaar to earn Christmas money. In addition, I've freaked out, yelled, screamed, charged-it, and thrown bottles of White-Out at walls (which, by the way, doesn't wash off!) in my frustration. I've cried, fought with my husband, yelled at my kids, wallowed in depression, wrote checks hoping that they wouldn't clear the bank until after my husband got paid (with various results), and threatened to go back to work so many times I've lost count.
Guess you know how far those tactics got me, huh? Other than making myself (and everyone around me) miserable, my pessimistic attitude only served to reinforce the fact that I thought there was never enough money. Poor, poor, pitiful me. Worse, I was convinced I was the only one who had to live that way.
Then came a day that changed my life. For the few months prior, it seemed that one set of difficult circumstances had stacked up on another and our life had become increasingly stressful. As if that wasn't enough, our expenses were rising dramatically and, at the same time, my husband’s paycheck took the second big cut in eighteen months due to the sale of his employer. We were, at the same time, faced with a change in pay periods, another hefty raise in health insurance rates, and several large expenses coming due right at Christmas.
Jackie Zimmerer is a wife and mother of four sons. She attends St. John's Catholic Church in the Diocese of Fort Worth, Texas.
That fateful morning Albert and I had another money argument before he left for work, then I found myself having a pity party. By about ten o'clock I was tired of wallowing in my own misery so I called a friend, complaining (again) that “we don't have any money.” I was in mid-moan when call-waiting announced that someone else was trying to get through. Leaving my confidante on hold, I answered the second call only to hear my husband utter words that froze my heart.
“Sweetheart, I've had an accident.” It turns out that a flat tire he was airing up had blown out less than a foot from his face and he had a ruptured left ear drum, but was otherwise okay. He was in no pain and, other than the fact that the unequal pressure in his ears was uncomfortable, he felt well enough to go back to work after being seen by a physician's assistant. But on my end of the world the whole thing was like one of those bad dreams that, even after I wake up, leave me shocked, agitated, and guilty. The phrase “What if those were the last words you ever said to him?” kept ringing in my ears. My next several hours were spent pacing the floor, something I do when I get nervous, but by mid-afternoon I was able to get a grip on my turbulent emotions: Albert really was safe and sound.
At that point I began to count my blessings, something I'm not always good at, and more clearly examine the events of the morning. Our finances hadn't changed one iota, nor had the expenses I'd been whining about magically gone away, but an overwhelming sense of gratitude at my husband's relative safety washed over me and melted something in my heart. I realized that, even though our family was still facing the same financial challenges, everything that was most important to me, Albert and my boys, was still there. I also admitted that our immediate needs for food, clothing, and shelter were met and, even though money would be tight, I know a great deal about creative frugality — I had simply stopped practicing it.
To make a long story short, I made a conscious choice to go back to what I know works: I made a menu for the next couple of weeks and stuck to it, a measure that drastically cuts our grocery bill (our largest expenditure other than housing). Then I took an honest look at our finances, prioritized our spending and prayed that, if it was God's will, everything would work out. I curtailed most non-essential expenditures (you know, the stuff where my “wants” exceed my pocketbook) and stuck to the limited Christmas budget I'd already decided on. The transition was so difficult, but the end result meant that, for the first time, I didn't experience any buyer's remorse at Christmas, nor did I feel diminished or miserly.
It is amazing what God can do when I cooperate! Other than limiting our holiday spending, I'd done all of the above before (so many times I can't count) then reverted to my old spend-thrift ways. Why? For the first time I recognized that I'd been doing all the right things, but with the wrong attitude. Instead of recognizing the abundance at hand, I usually shifted into miser-mode-because-we're-overdrawn (again), which was quickly followed by I-feel-deprived-because-I-can't-spend-what-I-want-when-I-want. The cycle would then lead to an overwhelming need to buy something (or lots of somethings!). You know where that got me, huh?
It's going to take some time to get back to where we were before this last round of financial forgetfulness, but this time I realize I have two choices: I can either balance our spending with our income or continue to worry myself sick. Oh, yeah — there is a third option — I can go back to ignoring the bank balance, but that always ends in an overdraft notice, which sucks us even further down the negative side of the balance sheet.
Every day I face the choice anew, but, for today, I am left with the profound lesson that all the scrimping and saving in the world is useless if I have a crummy attitude. I also realize that, even with the best intentions there is no guarantee that we won't again experience the dreaded more-month-than-money. However, one day at a time, I can choose not to feel deprived and, instead, to understand that I'm doing my best. After all, the life I'm so grateful to have been given is one of abundance — it just happens to be accompanied by a budget.
