The Beautiful Art of Being Content With What We Have

 Creating a thankful home in a world that keeps telling us we need more.

There is always something else to want, a bigger house, nicer kitchen, a newer vehicle, better furniture, more clothes.  The latest thing our children are asking for, a prettier yard, a more organized home, a family vacation that looks like the ones we see online.  A life that, from the outside, seems just a little more put together than the one we're living.  

And sometimes I think the hardest part isn't that these things exist, it's that we see them all the time.  We live in a world that is very good at showing us what we don't have.  Motherhood can make that especially difficult.  Because comparison has a way of sneaking into places we never invited it.

We see another mother doing something beautifully and suddenly wonder if we're doing enough, we see someone's home and wish ours looked more like it.  We see another family's traditions and wonder if we're creating enough memories, we see what someone else's children are doing and start questioning our own.

Before we know it, we're looking at the life God gave us through the lens of everything it isn't and somewhere along the way, we forget to notice what it is.  A home, family, a table, garden, children growing, work to do and people to love.  A thousand ordinary blessings that don't always photograph well but make up a beautiful life.

Contentment is learning to recognize the goodness already sitting right in front of us.

A Thankful Home Doesn't Have to Have Everything

I've been thinking about this a lot lately,  thankful home doesn't have to have everything.  It doesn't have to be the biggest house on the road or be perfectly decorated.  It doesn't need every new thing, it doesn't have to be constantly busy with exciting activities and it doesn't have to look impressive to anyone walking through the front door.

It just needs to be a place where people are loved, a place where there is room for laughter, a place where meals are shared, a place where children know they belong.  A place where we can be ourselves, where we recognize that what we have is enough for today.

There is something incredibly peaceful about that kind of home.

Learning the Difference Between Wanting and Needing

I don't want to teach my children that wanting something is wrong, it isn't.  There is nothing wrong with having dreams, nothing wrong with working toward something.  Nothing wrong with saving for something special or enjoying beautiful things, but I want them to know the difference between wanting more and needing more to be happy.

Those are very different things.  We can want something without being ungrateful for what we already have.  We can dream about a future without despising our present and we can work toward something better without believing that our current life isn't good enough.

That distinction matters because if we aren't careful, there will always be another thing.  Another house, another trip, another purchase, another accomplishment, another version of ourselves we think we need to become.

If our contentment depends on finally getting that next thing, we may spend our whole lives waiting to be satisfied.

The Comparison Trap

I think one of the greatest enemies of contentment is comparison and comparison has never been easier.

We can open our phones and, within minutes, see beautiful homes, perfectly planned meals, elaborate birthday parties, family vacations, beautifully dressed children, organized homeschool rooms, gardens overflowing with produce, and women who somehow seem to have figured out how to do everything.

And even when we know better, sometimes we still compare, we look at someone else's highlight reel and measure it against our ordinary Tuesday.  That's not a fair comparison.

We don't see their hard days, we don't see the laundry piled in the other room.  We don't see the arguments, the uncertainty, the disappointments.  The things they are praying about.  We see what they chose to show us and then we compare it to everything we know about ourselves.  No wonder we struggle with contentment.

Sometimes the most content thing we can do is simply put the comparison down.  Close the phone.  Look around our own home.  And notice.

There Is Beauty in Enough

I've come to believe there is a lot of beauty in enough.  Enough food for dinner, enough chairs around the table, enough books on the shelf, enough room for children to play.  Enough clothes to get through the week, enough work to keep our hands busy, enough people who love us, enough reasons to be thankful.  

Enough.  That word can sound so ordinary, but there is freedom in it.  Because enough means we don't have to spend every day chasing more.  We can actually enjoy what we have, use the dishes we already own, wear the clothes already hanging in the closet.  Sit on the porch with the furniture we've had for years, cook dinner in the kitchen we have, read the books already on the shelf.  Play outside, work in the garden, take a walk.  Talk, laugh and be together.

Sometimes the life we're trying so hard to improve is already the life we once prayed for.

Teaching Our Children Contentment

Children learn so much more from what we do than from what we say.  If I'm constantly talking about what I want next, they will notice.  If I'm always pointing out what our home is missing, they will notice.  If I'm constantly comparing our life to someone else's, they will notice.

But they also notice when we say,  "Look how beautiful the sunset is tonight.",  "I'm so thankful we have food in the pantry.", "I'm really glad we're all home together.", "We don't need that. We have something that works perfectly well.", "Let's enjoy what we have." "God has been so good to us."

Those little statements are seeds, we're teaching them how to see.  And perhaps that's what contentment really is—a way of seeing.

A Home Doesn't Have to Be Perfect to Be Beautiful

I've spent plenty of time thinking about the things I'd change in our home.  The projects still waiting to be finished, the things that could be updated, the spaces that could be prettier.  The clutter that somehow appears no matter how often we clean.

But then I stop and think about what actually happens inside these walls, children grow here, meals are made here, books are read here.  Prayers are prayed here, people laugh here and people cry here.  Dogs wander through here, shoes get left by the door.  There are muddy footprints sometimes.  There are unfinished projects, there are memories being made in rooms that will someday look very different.

And suddenly, the imperfections don't seem nearly as important.  A beautiful home isn't necessarily one that looks perfect, it's one that is lived in well.

There Is Nothing Wrong With Wanting More

I think this is important too.  Contentment doesn't mean we stop growing, it doesn't mean we never improve our homes.  It doesn't mean we don't work hard or we stop dreaming.  It doesn't mean we shouldn't make plans for the future.

We can want more and still be thankful.  We can build something better while appreciating what we have today.  We can save for a new kitchen while being grateful for the old one.  We can dream about a bigger garden while enjoying the little one we have.  We can work toward something without allowing the absence of it to steal our joy.

The question isn't necessarily, “Do I want more?”  The better question might be:  “Can I be thankful while I wait?”

That is where contentment begins to grow.

Maybe the Life We Have Is the Gift

I wonder how much of life we miss because we're waiting for it to become something else.  We think we'll be happier when the house is finished, when the children are older, when we have more money, when we take the trip.  When we get the new furniture, when life slows down, when the next season comes.

But what if we stopped waiting?  What if we looked around and realized that this ordinary Tuesday is part of the life we will someday miss?  The children who are making noise now won't always be this age, their little hands won't always reach for ours, the messes won't always be here.  The garden won't always look like this, the table won't always have these exact people sitting around it.  This season is temporary.

And perhaps contentment is learning to recognize the beauty of a season while we're still living in it.

A Thankful Home

I don't want to raise children who believe a good life is measured by how much they have, I want them to know that a rich life can be measured in other ways.

By how deeply we love, how generously we give, how faithfully we work, how often we gather around the table.  How well we care for what God has entrusted to us, how quickly we notice a sunset and how easily we say thank you.  How willing we are to share, how content we can be with enough.

I want them to grow up knowing that we don't need the biggest, newest, prettiest, or most impressive version of anything to have a beautiful life.  We need love, faith and one another.  We need meaningful work, gratitude and we need the wisdom to recognize when we already have enough.

Because the secret to a thankful home isn't having everything, it's learning to look around at what you do have and say, “Thank You, Lord. This is enough for today.”

And then actually enjoy it.  The meal, the mess, the garden, the old furniture, the noisy children, the quiet evenings, the unfinished projects, the ordinary days, the people sitting around your table.  This beautiful, imperfect, completely ordinary life.

There is a quiet kind of richness in being content with what we have and I think it's a richness worth teaching our children.  A legacy of gratitude, a home that doesn't constantly ask, “What do we need next?”  But pauses long enough to say,  “Look at what we've already been given.” 

Until next time, may your coffee stay warm and your children stay little just a little longer.

-Maggie