Sisterly Simplicity: Dispatch from Florida

"Frugality is one of the most beautiful and joyful words in the English language,

and yet it is one that we are culturally cut off from understanding and enjoying.

The consumption society has made us feel that happiness lies in having things,

and has failed to teach us the happiness of not having things."

Most of my family and friends already know, but for those who do not, my new home is a 29 ft. Coachmen Catalina camper. It would sound more adventurous and swashbuckling if I could say I made the decision just for the fun of it, but it was really a matter of finances, plain and simple. Rental properties were sought here in Florida, but I soon realized unless I wanted to spend the rest of my life giving 3/4 of my paycheck each month to a landlord, I would need to come up with a different plan. 

I began my search for a camper several months ago, but as with the rental properties, everything was way out of my price range. I have been able to stay out of massive amounts of debt thus far in my life, and did not want to change that with an expensive mortgage or loan payment that shackled me to a lender for the next decade, or two, or three. Discouragement was a frequent visitor, I'll admit; but God came through, as He always does, even in the midst of my uncertainty. My grandma called a local radio program to advertise our search for a camper. She received a call a few minutes later about a camper nearby that was needing to be sold as soon as possible. Long story short, the camper was within my price range, so I decided to take it. All of this happened in the span of one day. From that moment, the camper has been affectionately referred to as Providence House in order to serve as a reminder of God's perfect timing and provision.

Due to the fact the camper was within my price range, it needed a lot of work, as in a complete renovation. Think Extreme Makeover: Camper Edition. I loved to watch 'This Old House' on the PBS station when I was a little kid. For those of you who don't know, it was a show about remodeling old houses. Skill saws, historic paint colors, refinishing banisters--it was all way more fascinating than cartoons. Twenty years later, I now realize that show did not tell the whole truth. In the process of remodeling the camper, I sprayed bleach in my face and smelled like a swimming pool all day; Grandpa rammed his elbow into something and had a puncture wound; and at least a dozen spiders have jumped out of cabinets, causing me to flail around like a windmill in an attempt to kill them. I have patched more holes than I care to count, Grandma cleaned the mold-filled refrigerator, and Grandpa, bless his heart, has spent countless hours ripping up the hideous blue carpet and yellow linoleum, among the thousand other repairs he has made in the past month.

My parents drove down from Missouri last weekend in order for Dad to help Grandpa install the new vinyl flooring. In the span of two days, they made the camper floor look brand new. It is a blessing to have two men in my life who are hard workers and know how to build, repair, and remodel. I will never be able to repay them for all their hard work on my behalf. 

Just over one month after the purchase, Providence House is unrecognizable to her former condition. The interior was filthy, as in piles of dirt, expired food, and dead insects-filthy. I considered wearing a haz-mat suit while cleaning; it was that bad. Now Providence House has a new floor and is spotlessly clean. Never underestimate the power of bleach, Lysol, and elbow grease! 

I'm learning many lessons in this endeavor. First and foremost, I have reached the conclusion that whoever was put in charge of decorating campers must have been an interior design school drop-out. Blue carpet and matching blue furniture, fake wood that looks orange when the light hits it, and white vinyl walls with gold swirls all combine to create a nauseating effect. The blue carpet has been replaced with cherry-colored vinyl planks, the walls and cabinets will soon get a much-needed coat of white paint, and the couch will have a grey slipcover placed over the hospital-furniture blue fabric.

Secondly, as I continue to get rid of material possessions, I realize had I been a pioneer, every inch of space in my prairie schooner would have been loaded with books. I would have starved to death along the way, but I would have been well-read in the process. When faced with less than 200 square feet of living space, you get ruthless with items previously thought to be important. You slip into some sort of primeval mindset; only items necessary for survival will come through the material possessions purge unscathed. My World War II books, however, are off limits to the possession purge. They rival Winston Churchill's library. Not really, but you get my point. Where I go, they go.

Thirdly, and along the lines of the possessions purge, I have learned that simplifying is liberating. I'm only 26, but have still managed to accumulate a ridiculous amount of stuff, the vast majority to which I am in no way attached or sentimental. My new rule is unless the item can be consumed (dark chocolate), planted in the ground (vegetables or a tree), or placed in the vase on my table (yellow roses, preferably), it should not be purchased and brought into Providence House. It is shocking how much stuff is on store shelves. I plan to leave all of it right there. New clothes, electronics, movies, etc...? No, thanks. I'll continue to shop at Goodwill, check books and movies out for free from the library, and sit outside on the front porch playing classical and bluegrass on my violin for entertainment. 

Fourthly, living in a camper results in lots of questions and comments , ranging from, "That is so cool!" to "Aren't you worried that thing will blow over in a hurricane?"  The naysayers, as with all of my adventures, focus on the fact that I am single. "I sure wouldn't want to live out there by myself."; "You shouldn't be traveling around the world by yourself.", and let's not even go into the shocked responses from my dad's co-workers when they found out my sister and I tent-camped alone in Yellowstone.

Honestly, the naysayers are few and far between, most of the time. Besides, even though I am a prepared-for-everything-from-an-avalanche-to-a-camel-stampede-type person who worked long and hard to overcome being afraid of my own shadow, I somehow managed to get a personality that doesn't care what other people think about my status in life. My life has not followed the pattern of most everyone else in my age bracket with whom I grew up and/or attended college. I'm not married; I don't have kids; I don't own a traditional house; and I don't have a $45,000-$120,000 a year, middle-class salary. According to society, I should be freaking out right about now. At the very least, I should be experiencing some level of desperation. But I've never been able to make myself get concerned about what society says I lack.

My advice: Take each day as it comes and don't compare your life, relationship status, finances, or housing to that of others. It is what it is. God has it figured out, and you might as well not waste time worrying. Move on. 

Fifthly, I'm learning that joy and contentment are not found in obtaining a high-powered career or financial success in the eyes of the world. I graduated from college four years ago, as of May 15th. I've been out of college as long as I was in. After college, I had a fairly good-paying job with the state of Tennessee. It could have been a career until retirement. Two years later, I quit and moved to Montana to fulfill a childhood dream of working in Glacier National Park for a season. I make way less now paycheck-wise than when I worked for the state. Occasionally, people will ask me if I regret that decision. I say with absolute certainty, "Not one little bit." Sure, it isn't always easy living barely above minimum wage, and I often wonder how I will make it for the next six months, let alone to retirement. But those doubts never last long. God provides. I have a job I love with an amazing supervisor and great co-workers that affords me time off to travel, and for the first time in four years, a return trip to Romania is possible. I get to spend lots of time with family I didn't see very often growing up due to the ten-hour drive between us. I live 30 minutes from the ocean, one of my favorite places in the entire world. I've made new friends. I have my own house on wheels without a thirty-year mortgage. Could all of that change in a split second and be taken away? Absolutely. In the meantime, I will enjoy what is right in front of me, and thank God for every good and perfect gift.


"Simplicity also avails in breaking the tyranny of things...One requires few things to be one's self, one's age, and one's moral, intellectual, or spiritual stature. What one is does not depend on what one has."
-Albert E. Day