We rented a new mini-van this past weekend to drive up to Salt Lake City with our kids. We had a delightful time, but I learned something when we returned the car. The less I know, the happier I am.
I drive a very nice, reliable, comfortable car. It's not new, but it isn't old, either. It sure felt scrungy this morning, though, in comparison with the rental car. Over the weekend I'd grown accustomed to the satellite radio, cushy seats, and other extras.
The air-conditioning really spoiled me. There were controls on the passenger side that allowed me to adjust the temperature degree by degree. If I got too warm, I pushed it down a notch, when I started to chill I took it up. I've never ridden so comfortably!
My car has a control on the passenger side, too, but it doesn't work like that! In fact, compared with the new mini-van, my car suddenly looked dingy and old and dirty, although a week ago I thought it was really nice.
I've discovered the same discontent when I've visited people's homes. I love my house. It's perfect for me, it's decorated the way I like, it's comfortable. But if I visit someone who lives in a newer, fancier, nicer house, suddenly my home seems cheap and tawdry.
Perhaps that's what happened during the years we lived in Gilbert. To begin with, our house was new and exciting. It was never rich, I didn't have the money to pay for granite counters or hard wood floors, let alone ornate molding and brass fixtures, but I loved it just the same. Compared to the older, farm houses in our neighborhood our house seemed really modern.
Gradually, though, the farmland was sold and developed into new, upscale subdivisions. These homes were pricey! I loved the people who lived in them, but I had to readjust each time I came home to my own, simple house. Over the years, as my house and I aged, the neighborhood got ritzier and ritzier. Each subdivision had bigger, nicer homes, and younger, richer families. Eventually, I began to feel frumpy and out of date everywhere I went. At the store, at school events, even to a small degree in church. It was embarrassing to walk out of meetings and see our old car sitting in a parking lot filled with new SUV's.
The people in our immediate neighborhood were still the same, wonderful, compassionate, grateful people whom I loved with all of my heart, but more and more the community as a whole moved towards being an upscale, elegant place to live.
I was fine as long as I did my shopping at Wal-mart, but when I ventured into the ultra-fashionable shopping malls that began to pop up all around us I was doomed. Suddenly my ordinary furniture was outdated and ugly, my nice clothing looked plain and drab, and my jewelry? Well, let's just say it didn't pop, sizzle, or bling! I came home needing stuff I hadn't even heard of two hours earlier.
It took me awhile to figure out why I wasn't happy anymore. I was jealous, plain and simple. No longer satisfied and content, I wanted all the new stuff I kept seeing. I discovered, like it or not, that for me, happiness meant being uninformed, naive, and not knowing what else was out there.
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