More than enough

That's Harper, sorting her money. She would do this daily if I would let her, which I don't, mostly because the little stopper thing in her bank is extremely difficult to get out. A couple of things had me thinking about contentment last week. I read an article about John O'Quinn, an (in)famously wealthy Houston attorney who died in a car wreck a couple of weeks ago. This particular article detailed O'Quinn's car collection of approximately eight HUNDRED cars. Not Matchbox cars, mind you. Eight HUNDRED actual collection-worthy full-sized automobiles. Apparently O'Quinn himself wasn't particularly involved in the acquisition of the eight HUNDRED cars, presumably because he was busy making money to pay for them. Certainly he had never driven most of them, perhaps there were even some that he had never even seen. Maybe he figured that someday he would have made enough money and he could go wander around in this giant warehouse with his eight HUNDRED cars and maybe he might even take a few of them out for a spin, like Ferris Beuller in Cameron's dad's vintage Ferrari. Or he could sort them like Harper with her money: red sporty coupes over here, Silver Ghost Rolls Royces over here, the Pope's little Ford Escort over there.. There's a famous quote in which some reporter asked some unfathomably rich man (Getty? Rockerfeller?) how much money is enough. Umfathomably rich man responded, "Just one dollar more." So, that's us too, isn't it? Rarely realizing that we actually have plenty. We bemoan what we are missing instead of relishing what we already have. Which, incidentally, is another interesting aspect of the O'Quinn cautionary tale. He made lots of his money (pre tort reform) representing people who had been harmed (I really want to put that in quotes, but will refrain) by breast implants and diet pills. We always want just one dollar more (or one pound less, in the case of the diet pills) even when it destroys us.

I also read an article about a Russian tycoon (Roman somebody?) who had, the day before, spent upwards of $47,000. On LUNCH. And you know what? I'll bet he was hungry again a few hours later.

So I'm going to be deliberate to be satisfied with today. To be actively thankful for the abundance that I have right now. Instead of bemoaning my noisy life (my ears were actually beginning to burn one day last week with all of the small children and their talking squealing singing talkingtalkingtalkingtalkingtalking) I will remind myself that my life was quiet for many years before and will again be quiet many years hence. And I will delight in the cacophony. I will drive my minivan as if it were a Silver Ghost. I will thank my husband for the work that he does to provide more than enough for us. I will glory in the dappled sunlight as it falls on my curly haired dear ones as they squeal on the backyard swingset, realizing that my dusty passport, and my beloved Budapest and Prague (and Barcelona and Patagonia and St. Petersburg and Athens and..) will still be there when my kids get a little older. For now, there is sweet abundance here.