We ate dinner with a member of our ward on Sunday who grew up very “privileged” – maids, housekeepers, butlers – you name it, they had it. Luckily, his parents were still very down to earth, frugal people, so this man still appreciates the value of hard work and sacrifice. He told us that his mother once got her couch reupholstered, but then put the old slipcover over it so that no one would think they had gotten a new couch. His parents bought the same kind, same color car each time they got a new one, just so that people wouldn’t think they were rich. The kids had to make their bed each day. The maid would come in a few minutes later, strip the bed, and wash the sheets. I love that his mother still had them appreciate what they had, even if someone else would technically take care of it for them. I really respect those people. I think we’d get along. I want to use their example in raising our son.
I don’t think this post makes much sense, but today I’m just really feeling grateful for generous friends and family, living simply, and above all – the knowledge that I truly am the one who is and always has been privileged.