Her sister is sick, her father is away fighting the Civil War, and her mother needs an expensive train ticket to fetch the doctor. Admirable, spontaneous Jo does what many a Civil War-era heroine did when faced with an expense too great to pay out of pocket: she sells her hair.
This leads to the best line in the whole movie (Little sister Amy, upon seeing the shorn Jo: "But Jo, your one beauty!"), but it is Jo's first proclamation that makes my point today. Oh, money. How difficult you are.
My husband and I have been graduate students, on and off, for the past five years. One of my favorite Wheaton professors was fond of saying, "The nice thing about staying in graduate school is that you get really good at being poor."
This is true. We're almost rocket-scientists when it comes to finding deals (there's a $4 movie theater on the other side of town!) or saving money (cooking without meat 4-5 days a week can save a bundle). We get tips from other grad-school friends and family who are also quite adept (and often even MORE adept) at making ends meet when those ends are quite short to begin with.
We certainly haven't suffered during our graduate school years - family and friends been exceedingly (almost ridiculously) generous and we've budgeted carefully and thoughtfully. We also aren't grumpy about our state of affairs. We love learning and ideas, and this is the path we've chosen for a reason. Investment banking just doesn't have the same siren call, to us!
Still, having less money usually means being inconvenienced. We won't starve, certainly. But we'll wait at the airport three hours for a ride instead of paying for a cab ($60!!!). We'll wait until Monday to go to the Urgent Care clinic with a bad sore throat instead of going to the Emergency Department on a Saturday ($$$$$!!!). We take walks together for dates and get our books from the library. A real splurge is a night at Maggiano's or Outback. Concerts are largely a thing of the past. We stay with friends whenever we can while traveling (which has the added bonus of fun visits on top of staying in our budget).
Our premarital counselors told us that God usually gives every couple one person who is the "gas pedal" and one who is the "brake" when it comes to spending money. This can (obviously) cause some conflict.
I'll admit that I am the gas pedal in our relationship. Yet, my ability to spend money really quickly is not always because I'm generous. Usually it's because I don't handle much of the budgeting, so I don't know what we'll be sacrificing if I splurge on an item. I don't usually want to spend tons of money on myself (though cute clothes can be tempting, to say the least...), but I do want to give it away. I want to buy the BEST wedding gift. I want to put a thousand dollars in the offering plate. I want to buy out Baby Gap for my cute little nieces. When friends come for dinner I want to cook steak, darn it, and not the cheap kind.
Daryl (luckily) is a bit wiser. He is our brake pedal. He's the one who asks if we really need something, or if we just want it. He helps weigh price and convenience against budget and savings. Though sometimes (as he'll readily admit), he can brake too much. We're learning to balance. We're learning to give. We're learning to save. We're learning to be wise.
I've been challenged in my thinking about money this summer. For one thing, I'm staying with my parents up in Wisconsin (read: no rent payments for a few months and lots and lots of meals for which we don't pay). It's an incredible gift. It's amazing. It's restful. And it's given me some space to relax and think about money in a way other than, "Oh goodness, we MUST STICK TO THE BUDGET OR WE WILL HAVE NO SHOES AND NO FOOD!!!"
I don't want my relationship with money to be one of fear. I don't want to hate it, like Jo. I also don't want to love it, as that can obviously lead to all sorts of problems. What I really want is to treat it as another aspect of living life under the power and grace of Jesus. The Lord of the universe is Lord over my wallet, my bank account, and my desire for a new pair of shoes, too.
Some good friends of our family teach at churches and conferences about stewardship. Recently they've started keeping a log of all the ways God has blessed them financially through family, friends, gifts, and surprises. This is admirable, and it's something Daryl and I have started to do. It's so easy in the middle of a financial drain (a crazy vet bill, a dental crown, graduate school) to feel suffocated. How will we make it through this? Now we have something tangible to look at, to see where God has cared for us in the past, and will certainly care for us in the future.
But here's the crazy thing about these friends: Not only do they keep a record of these bountiful gifts; they tithe off of them.
That means if their church sends them on a camping trip that would have costed, oh, $400 for their family of five, they put $40 in the offering plate. If someone were to donate a car worth $5,000, then $500 would go in. This is so incredibly brave and full of faith that it almost scares me to think about, especially coming from a graduate school budget.
I don't think that this is the solution for everyone when learning to be a good steward of what God has given, but it does give me pause.
For this family, tithing is worship. For Daryl and I it is often either blind giving (Daryl does most of our budgeting, so when I'm tempted to be crazily-generous in the offering plate, it's often because I don't count the cost, which isn't really generosity as much as it is randomness) or fearful giving. I want our tithing to be an act of worship. I want to give to God because of what God has bountifully given to us, even if our piggy banks feel light.
*Image borrowed from: http://ingridgraceandaudrey.blogspot.com/2008/09/re-let-it-be-love3.html
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