i wish my family was…

I wish my family was…

Rich.

That’s how my eight year-old son filled in the blank prompted by his day-by-day journal. I hadn’t been intentionally spying. I was straightening his room and just picked up his journal and opened it to a random entry to see if he was still journaling daily.

I wish my family was rich.

I felt like I had been punched in the gut.

How had I failed to instill our values, a sense of perspective and an understanding of what is important?

Because the truth is, we are rich.

We’ve never had to make impossible choices. Water or electricity? Food or new shoes? But we do make choices, and the results of those choices aren’t visible – not to an eight-year-old boy.

I try to picture our life through his eyes. We live in a regular house. We drive regular cars. Sometimes I say we can’t afford things, but it’s not that we can’t afford it as much as I don’t want that particular thing in our life.

But beyond what you can hold in your hand, are we living a rich life? An abundant, vivid life? I thought we were.

It’s making me think, how are we communicating what rich is to our kids? Are we talking about the right things? Sending the right messages? Modeling the right behavior?

What would have been a better answer?

I wish my family was…

Loving? Kind? Together? Dead? Considering the alternatives, rich is starting to look pretty benign.

After mentioning my discovery to a friend she reminded me, of course that is what an eight-year-old boy is going to say. Don’t you remember being infatuated with riches as a kid?

It came back to me. I wanted to marry Ricky Schroder on Silver Spoons. I wanted Daddy Warbucks to adopt me. I wanted to find the treasure in Goonies. I wanted to dive into a swimming pool of gold coins like Scrooge McDuck in the opening sequence of Duck Tales.

As a child, I yearned for a rich life because it seemed obvious that a life full of mansions, jewels and helipads is a life where no need goes unmet. But back here on planet Earth in our real family, we’re trying to redefine riches.

Rich is homemade pizza in front of your favorite movie. Rich is falling out of your chair laughing. Rich is racing bikes, jumping on the trampoline until it gets dark, donuts after church, walking in the woods, snuggling under quilts reading, practicing football with your dad in the back yard.

My dear son, I hope one day you will look back and be able to recognize the riches of our family. Until then, I’ll keep our plans to hire a chauffeur on hold.

P.S. A few days after I unwillingly journal snooped, this post from Momastery went viral, and it helped me to articulate why this simple innocent statement was eating at me so much. We take so much for granted – clean water, shelter, healthy food, free school. On those days when it seems like money is the answer that riches would solve every problem, it’s easy to forget how rich we already are.