Would You Choose to Be Poor?

Would you ever choose to give up everything you have so that you can live a life in poverty? I'm not talking about giving up your earthly possessions so you can follow Christ. Or become a nun who takes a vow of poverty or whatever. I'm talking about being an average, everyday citizen. Who gives up family connections, education, jobs, a home... to be poor. I've known 2 people who seem to have made this choice. In one case, I have no issue with it. In the other, I am greatly saddened. Growing up, my mom and I attended an inner city church for a couple of years. My mom was able to minister generously to many of the families, children, and elderly there. It really fulfilled a calling for her. Once a week, this small church had a soup kitchen. We worked the kitchen on a regular basis. There was a man we came to know well as he was there each week. According to the story that had been pieced together over the course of a few years, our pastor had determined that this man chose poverty. Chose homelessness. He had been a lawyer. A great education, nice house, rising career. But he didn't want it. So he gave it all up and chose to live in shelters, on the streets, taking charity as it was offered. Some would say he was mentally ill. Others might say he was closer to God. Bottom line, to me, was that he was primarily impacting only himself. But there is someone else I've known... and this haunts me. This time, a woman. With a husband and children. I don't know a lot about them. But I know they struggle financially. They yearn to live in a safe neighborhood, far from street violence. They are eager to be comfortable enough to pay their bills every month and maintain a good amount of food and diapers and toiletries in the home. They say they just want a sense of security, stability. This woman is well educated. Very smart. Has incredible potential. But because she believes that staying home with her children is of the utmost importance... because her husband believes that doing a job that means something is more important than doing a job with a livable salary... their children live in an unsafe neighborhood... hungry... needing... This time, my feelings are vastly different. Perhaps because I've known hunger. And not even the kind of hunger and fear that someone who doesn't have a roof over their heads knows. Not even the kind of hunger that is temporarily satiated by a bag of food from a food pantry or a meal from a soup kitchen. I've just known the kind of hunger of having to wait a day or 2 to have something more than a few cups of cereal, a scoop of peanut butter, a jar of pickles. Not enough to make a meal but enough to see you to the next paycheck. But I've at least tasted hunger. So I will do everything in my power to make certain that my children are raised in a safe, secure, loving home. That they do not experience true hunger but that they are empathetic and compassionate to the hungry. I won't be shopping at Hollister or Abercrombie for their clothing... but they will be clothed in outfits suitable for the weather, with warm coats or bathing suits as the season calls for. I just can't understand why someone would turn their back on an extraordinary education... on friends and family who could help out... on even looking for a job, a good job that the extraordinary education could help you land... why would you give all of that up for the sake of living in poverty when you have children depending on you? Looking to you to fulfill their needs? Watching and observing you and the choices you make... wondering why you aren't caring for them, meeting their basic needs. What is the limit? When are the rights of being a parent overruled?

When does someone step in and make it stop? I used to work in foster care so I've seen children removed for neglect. But is that even the answer?

It blows my mind that anyone could be so selfish, so determined to prove a point, so set in their ways, so eager to make a social statement... that they would turn down opportunities to have a fantastic life for their child. That they would rather be prideful than a good parent.

My mom was proud. And taught me to be proud as well. But she also taught me to be humble and to know my limits. To recognize when I needed help.

I guess there aren't answers. Just questions upon questions upon questions.