I married a poor man. On purpose. He came from poor folks and he had no prospects. All he had was a yellow van with fuzzy dice and a velvet painting of dogs playing poker.
I married him because he had integrity, values, and humility. Authentic, he was the real deal, salt of the Earth. He was the best investment I ever made.
I come from wealth, although I grew up dumpster diving poor. Those who wrap themselves up in worldly things are not all they’re cracked up to be. Wealth is a burden believe it or not, it walls people off and insulates them from their own selves.
Appearances start to matter more than integrity. You can’t be vulnerable, you have to protect our stuff. You start to live a somewhat duplicitous life, presenting your best side to the world and tucking your real self, your skeletons, behind closed doors. Fancy people who live in this world often have a myriad of painful secrets and a suitcase full of pills to help them cope.
Wealth, power, money, these are status symbols the world teaches us to pursue. There’s a price to be paid however. You simply cannot serve two masters. I suppose a couple of prosperity ministers just rolled their eyes at me. It’s true however, you just can’t shove a camel through the eye of a needle.
Sometimes my husband doesn’t understand, he fears I married down. Oh no love, I married up. I cannot bear the myopic shallowness of that world, the torturous attempts to pour things and status into the abyss of one’s soul.
You learn things when you come from hard times, like what actually matters in life. You learn what you’re made of, you learn who you are, and you make no attempts to apologize for it. Wealth can pass away, but character lasts forever.
I married a poor man on purpose because I never trust those who try to impress me with things and status. When you strip those things away, you get right to the heart of the matter.
That’s what really matters.