Imagine if your net worth could be contained within a single shopping cart. I once read that something like 95% of the things in your home are completely unnecessary. This may require a walk-thru to verify. I’ll wait while you have a look around…
I recently came across a guy whose world was truly concentrated into a shopping cart–and there was ample room to spare. His name is Frank. We spent some time talking about his past while he extracted, cleaned, reorganized, and repacked the contents of his world.
We talked for about twenty minutes–more than enough time for me to memorize the entirety of his belongings: a first-aid kit–a rarity among the homeless, but an obvious benefit; a second shirt–long sleeves and folded nicely; a can of ravioli–again, obvious; three marking pens–I learned long ago the value of a marking pen for creating signs; a fishing hat to keep the sun off his head (we’d been in the shade); an empty plastic bottle, which is smart; roughly four feet of twine; and at the heart of it all, a Bible (NIV), which he kept wrapped in a thin dishcloth. The extraction/replacement ritual took place four times as he spoke. My brain was flush with theories that would never be tested. I had to think: What else does one really need to get by? Sure, there are things that would be beneficial. If it had been the deep woods, a good hunting knife and fishing pole would have been great, but it wasn’t the deep woods. It was the inner city. Clearly, there are things that would make life more comfortable, but he seemed contented with what he had.
A kid walked by, stopping for a moment to ask me for anything I could spare. As a rule, I don’t give money to random homeless folks unless it’s an emergency. Frank gave him two bucks.
Together with the clothes Frank wore, the few items in his shopping cart represented the entirety of his worldly possessions. Without question, his net worth was south of $100, and he threw out over two percent of it to a stranger without batting an eye. This man, Frank, whom no one would envy, and with whom no one would trade places, had a firmer grasp on what is most important in life than most of the people I’ve ever known, including myself.
The most important thing, he had. The necessities, he had. The stuff that distracts us from that one most important thing, he did not value.
Frank, you now have someone who envies you.