A New Measure of Luxury

Dolores got it right. Here's what luxury is in today's world...

My close friend Dolores of Bella Figura (you may remember her from our trip to Sicily together a few years back) recently published a newsletter sharing her thoughts on how time and space are the new luxury in our modern world, a world laden with mindless materialism. It’s a thought that nestled into my heart immediately upon reading her words, already buried beyond the point of ever hoping to dig it out.

Time and space is what we hunger for. Dolores got it absolutely right.

When I was a young mother, I had four babies at my feet under the age of five, and was trying desperately to carve out a piece of the world for our little family. Women I loved and respected would encourage me often - Stay the course! Keep the faith! They’ll grow up quickly! Take heart.

At the time, it felt like my children would never grow up. I was changing so many diapers, and drinking so many espressos to try and keep up with it all, it now feels like a solid decade of my life just vanished. I don’t remember movies or music that were released during this phase of things, I didn’t keep track of anything news worthy or participate in… well, most anything. And on the worst days, it felt like I’d be there - alone in diaper hell - forever.

But as any parent knows, the reason we’re given cliche advice like “Cherish them when they’re young, because before you know it, they’ll be grown and gone.” is because it’s true. As cliches often are. I emerged from my decade of pregnancy/nursing/diaper-changing/nap-schedule/potty-training to find that my children were already half grown. Years, like a vapor, became untouchable and impossible to collect in my hands. As aware and present as I was during those little years, savoring it truly, time still passed without my permission.

Unless I somehow gain supernatural powers that allow me to slow the spin of the earth and halt the cosmos, time will continue to march on. My only response, and the best one at that, is to give thanks to God for these moments and to savor them.

Sip by sip. Taste by taste.

Though it’s come with many hardships and uncertainties (and let’s be honest, plenty of tears) I’ve always been grateful that in our quest to find our family’s footing in this world, we’ve chosen to work for ourselves. It’s confusing as I’ll get out in this modern age. But I grow in sturdiness when difficulties arise, reminding myself of my Grandpa Larson who worked the coal mines in Montana and Idaho.

This isn’t that level of difficulty. And work is a good gift.

What we have in our hands in exchange is a new measure of luxury. Time. Time with each other, fleeting as it is. Time to talk, to share stories and jokes, to drive each other mad and bicker a bit more than we should. Through a lot of intentional effort, we have given our family space to be a family, together. For a few more years at least, the six of us under one roof, on our farm, with room to breathe and run and build and explore.

While luxury for some may be to collect expensive toys, ours has always been to collect moments. That’s why you’ll often find us eating outside, Django Reinhardt blaring on the speaker, meat on the grill, hands shaping flatbreads for the fire. It’s in these actions that we build memories important to our family, moments that can be gathered and stored away for a future-Stuart-and-Shaye who no longer have our babies within arms reach. Time together is our luxury.

When Stuart and I made the decision 15 years ago for me to quit my job and stay home with our first child, Georgia, he was still in school. We had a pile of student debt, no job prospects on the horizon, and $200 in savings to our name. We prayed that God would bless our decision and would make us wise and submissive to the sacrifices it would require. When we welcomed our second child, Owen, we were living in an affluent area of Alabama scrounging by on $28,000 a year. Our grocery budget was $35/week. And even as hard as that was for us (so many tears I can’t even tell you), I never once doubted my decision to sacrifice money for time. Again I say, time together is our luxury.

As the children grew up, year upon year, Stuart and I were given a bit more space to explore new work options. The goal remained the same, though the means to get there have shifted. Now, I am grateful that our children get to see us work (and work hard) and actually get to participate in that work in meaningful ways. Time together now isn’t just tummy-time and tea-parties. Instead, this stage of life for us involves a lot of character shaping through exploration, explanation, and experience. Time together involves answering a lot of hard questions and molding our hearts towards good desires. Time is spent growing sturdy.

This week, we emptied our travel fund in exchange for six plane tickets to Rome. It’s taken us years to save up for it, but our little family will finally be getting to share a trip to our beloved Italy together. (Stuart and I have some work to take care of in Umbria such as signing off on our villa rental and meeting the crew for next year’s The Elliotts In Umbria Getaway, as well as finalizing our list of activities, restaurants, and wineries for the getaway). Hardly “work”, but none-the-less…

This will be the longest trip we’ve ever taken as a family and one that is already keeping me awake at night with fear and anticipation. Georgia is now 14 (going on 40 it seems) and I know we have only a small handful of years left where we can most certainly have her with us. And once they start working out of the home? At “real jobs”? I shudder to think of the schedule…

These are our magic years: the years when everyone can wipe and brush themselves, carry their own bags in airports and don’t require car seats, and at the same time, aren’t living their own life yet. They’re here with us still.

So I’m kidnapping them and forcing them to have an adventure with me (it’s a “long time to be away from friends” for a teenager-who-shall-remain-unnamed). I’m forcing them to see value, even if they can’t quite yet, in the time that we share together as a family and the space we’ve carved out to exist in. I know it’s a luxury. They don’t quite yet, but I trust they will soon enough.

Eventually they’ll realize, as most of us do, that wood rots, dust collects, and shine fades on all our precious treasures. But time and space with the ones we love is a treasure, the memories and moments piled up in our hearts more valuable than gold.

And Amen.

Love,