I can’t predict the future. Does that mean I have to sell my soul?
My fingers are gliding over the bindings of the books in the the stacks of the library. I have a half hour to kill before I head over to the small business management night class I’m taking. In recent months, I’ve learned that our cafe project qualifies for some grant funding that could cover a lot of our kitchen equipment. But in order to be eligible, I have to complete this class. If there’s some financial assistance with this project down the road, then I’m game for a little extra education.
While waiting, I’m reading the spines of the books when my concentration is broken by a familiar voice at the main desk. I peek around the corner of the stacks and smile. It’s Louigi’s mom, Pat. Louigi is one of my best friends from high school, and his mom, who raised both of her kids solo, always treated me as though I were one of her own. I rush out to hug her.
She wraps her arms around me, kisses me several times, and asks how I’m doing. She asks about Saoirse, about Bob and the cafe, about my latest book project, about Ula’s vision therapy. I ask her about Lou and his wife, about her grandkids. She sees Lou’s daughter regularly, because they live close to town. She doesn’t get to see her other granddaughter, who is a little over an hour away, as frequently as she’d like “The car just can’t handle it,” she confides in me. “The mechanic says it just won’t hold up to the longer trips anymore.” She shrugs. “I don’t think I’ll be able to replace it when it goes. So that’ll be that. But Lou drives me up to stay with them when he gets some free time. And then I stay for a couple days. And that’s really nice.”
I frown in sympathy as she predicts the ultimate demise of her car. “Are you okay with not replacing it?” I have to ask. Pat never had a lot. She always amazed me with all she was able to do for her kids in spite of it. She shrugs. “That’s the way it goes. I can walk everywhere I need to go here in town, and,” she holds up a stack of library books and smiles broadly, “I’ve got all these free books!”
Time passes quickly, and I need to break free to get to my class. Before we part, she throws her arms around me again. “I’m so glad to hear all the things that are happening for your family,” she whispers. “I’ll keep praying for you.” She prays for me? I feel a flood of warmth and gratitude wash over me. I walk to my car and head to class with a smile on my face.
My smile fades when I walk in the door and see the glossy business card at my desk from the financial consultant who is our guest lecturer for the night. I reach into my bag and pull out my knitting. I’ve heard these lectures before: diatribes about the importance of diversifying investments by dumping money into the very products our guest lecturer sells: large-cap stocks, midcap stocks, small-cap stocks, emerging market stocks, investment-grade bonds, high-yield bonds, municipal bonds, mutual funds, annuities, and his personal favorite for the night: life insurance.
Our teacher looks around the room and makes eye contact with me as he reports the fact that nearly a third of single women over the age of 75 are living in poverty. This ties right into his life insurance pitch.
I hate scare tactics. Especially when I know they apply to me. Someone tried to sell Bob and me life insurance before. I was about to make Bob sign on the line when I had a sudden realization. “My family’s my life insurance,” I told him. “If something terrible happens to you, I’ll have them.” We walked out the door and never looked back.
But still, these pitches bother me. Bob and I have followed none of the conventional rules for preparing for retirement, much less widowhood. It’s not that we’re careless with our money. We just can’t bring ourselves to invest in an economic machine that we don’t believe in. We have invested our lives in one place: into the health of the soil, the joys of family, in the economic vitality of our community. Our livelihood is locally based. Our investments are locally based. And the way we see our livelihood improving is through further investment in our local community. In our minds, that creates greater opportunities for our children. If there are opportunities for our children in our community, then we stay together as a family. If we stay together as a family, we can pool our resources. We can support each other. Maybe our income or future reduced circumstances will qualify Bob or me as a poverty statistic as a widow someday. But surrounded by family, friends, beautiful forests and farmland, good food and community, we would hardly see it as an impoverished life.
I want to interrupt our instructor. I want to argue these points. I want to state my case, if not to persuade him of its validity, then to hear myself proclaim my reasons out loud, to remind myself why I have not followed the investment rules being laid out before me, despite the number of times I’ve been taught them. I want to argue because I want to be right. I want to be right because….because…
…because I know I could be wrong. I can argue the futility of investing in what David Korten aptly dubbed “phantom wealth.” I can pick apart the myth that the economy can grow endlessly. I can outline the ecological, social and economic dangers in believing that it should. I can state the ethical case for my own family’s financial choices.
But what if Bob and I invest all our life energy and wealth in our community, and a giant crevasse opens up in the earth and swallows up the farmland and half our citizens? Or a plague of locusts consumes every green plant? Or our friends all move away or die, or our kids simply decide to pack up and go live someplace far away, ignoring my phone calls and emails?
Where’s my life insurance then?
I can’t bring myself to invest in the conventional economy, because I believe with all my heart in the power and importance of creating a life-serving economy. But anything can go wrong. And this is what I am thinking as this financial advisor enumerates the differences between cash and term life insurance policies. I look down at my knitting, scrutinize my pattern, count my rows, count my stitches, count anything but the dollars that aren’t sitting in an investment account someplace.
“I’ll keep praying for you.” I hear Pat’s generous words as the wool moves through my fingers. I don’t even go to church anymore. I’m sort of Pagan. Sort of Catholic. Sort of Buddhist. The only religion I don’t believe in is that of unlimited economic growth at any cost. Pat doesn’t care. She loves me. And she prays. And even in her situation, where she is losing her car, where she falls into the statistic of poverty-stricken older women, she prays for me — for someone who is loaded with great food, a beautiful home, a functioning car. She is thankful for her son, who takes her to spend time with her grandkids. She is thankful for the library, for her humble home in town, for the two legs that carry her where she needs to go, for hugs from old friends.
And then I see it. Life insurance is in the attitude: in the ability to accept change, to keep finding things in this world to be thankful for, to keep finding ways to be generous to others, to keep loving.
I go forward with my financial plans and dreams: that Sap Bush Hollow Farm will flourish for another generation, that our little pastures, our store and cafe will provide a meaningful livelihood for our daughters and their families; that West Fulton will continue to revive with arts and music and kind souls, making life here lovely and meaningful, drawing folks to this land who will care for it and for each other.
But this is what I must remember: Life insurance starts with the time I spend sitting in the dark each morning, with the time spent in the woods, with the time gazing out over the hillsides — giving thanks, sending love, contemplating change, meditating on compassion, offering up prayers. Poverty has little to do with the money in the bank. It has everything to do with the state of the heart and the mind. This is where I need to invest.
Beautiful, once again.
Really great stuff, you are well prayed for along with your family. There is much to love about you and your ways and that is the best life insurance, for this world and the next. As for the actual life insurance, we could never afford what we really needed, but we did by some whole-life policies that were reasonable to cover a funeral, bills as the estate was handled. We have not used it for that, thank God :), but we did have disability insurance on it that covered the fees while we were sick for periods of time and even took a loan on it to get a newer car that was really helpful. We are always at the whim of life but as you say the best life insurance is around us every day, with that kind of love we get to see the face of God and His Heaven daily-really good stuff that is inspiring. As for your ways religiously I always remember something that was said recently, that Sunday was not made for God but for us to reconnect and relax with the importance of the God-given gift of family and the important things of community found at church, and that too often we try to return God the favor of creating Him in our own image instead of accepting His. That often humbles me and I try to reconnect like God has guided me to. I also feel goodness from your writings so keep writing and doing what you do on the farm, it helps us all as well as you and yours. We will keep on praying for you and yours have a good day and a good life 🙂 and continue to feel that life insurance, it is the best kind.
So very true. Everything today seems to revolve around the almighty dollar and how much people have. It does not matter what type of person they are, just how much they are worth. Everyone is busy trying to keep up with everyone else and no one is focusing on what matters God and family. Very few people today look towards God anymore as insurance. It has been my experience that everyone questions the sayings: God Will Provide and God Will Never Give You More Than You Can Handle.
I love having just enough money to live on. I have to admit I do get a little help from services because I’m on disability that I earned from working. I can apply for grants when available. Most of the time I do with what I have. I buy in cash.
I always considered life insurance, “death insurance”. I mean really call it what it is. Would I purchase it if I had children? I would first make sure the kids had the best loving guardian possible. Then I would figure out if my estate would provide for them. If my estate could not provide for them then death insurance makes sense. I’m not including college. Not all young people want that and they will find their way there if they do.
Shannon, you and Bob are wealthy. Your talents are rich. Your children are already engaged in those activities. They do have real life insurance, experience, wisdom, talent, creativity, independent thinking, critical thinking and much love around them.
You make great points in your story.
Living so long a “conventional” life, we have had to take baby steps as we leave behind the false security of good jobs, retirement funds, and all the so-called benefits of being a good wage earner. Each step we take makes us poorer by most standards, but our lives are so much richer, our health so much better, and I can’t imagine it any other way.
My husband and I faced the life insurance question too. We are older (70 and 65) and our children are grown. We decided for a few years to buy just enough insurance ($5.95 per month) to help me keep our home and pay the mortgage, if something happened to him. This was pre-retirement. Now that we are both retired, on Social Security and our home is paid off we let that insurance go. What we now have is a “burial fund” in the bank that we add a bit of money ($30-40.00) to every month. We plan to be creamated and even that will cost close to $2,000 for each of us. I just want to have enough to pay for that bill in the event is happens and not be caught short. Yes, I will have to sell our house and homestead if my husband dies first because I know that I cannot single-handedly keep it up nor afford to keep it repaired and maintained. I have reconciled myself to that. But having that burial fund is a great “peace of mind” for me. I know that I can take care of what is needed without having to ask my son’s for money. And I know that in a year or two I can sell our home and move into an a senior citizens apartment, scaling back significantly and be okay. My son’s all live and work in other states (where the jobs are) and expecting them to take care of me or to absorb the costs or providing for me financially is unrealistic as they have young children they are trying to raise and educate.
Thank you for this sweet reminder of what REALLY matters!
So- we never had, nor will we ever have, “Life/Death Insurance”. Think about it. I am dead- do I care, or have any knowledge of what is happening after I am dead? My personal beliefs suggest not, therefore we will continue to enjoy the most important part of being alive, and that is “being alive”!!!! You and your family ARE the here and now of life. You fill us all with the joy of life- the rewards of supporting nature’s need to re-energize our environment! Stay as you are Shannon, and family. We love you for who you are, what you do, and the warmth that comes from knowing that you are truly sincere in your beliefs!
With love- Ron/Jeanne. etc
Hi Shannon! Well said, as always. I just wanted to share a few things I learned working in this field of ins and investments before I left for good. Mostly because its such a corrupt field.
First, I saw many people put their hard earned money in their bankers pockets. Anything but term life ins is created to do this. Whole life insurance is mostly a plumped up product that makes you think you are saving and growing money but all you are doing is putting it in your brokers account not your own. I always recommended young families with little children to buy enough term insurance (which costs way way less than whole life, mostly because you aren’t lining someone else’s pockets) to cover what they would need to self sustain until the kids were grown. Older couples, enough to cover funeral expenses. Period. If in the mean time you saved enough to cover these things then you would cancel your insurance and thus “pay” yourself instead of paying someone else. Someone above mentioned a funeral account and these are brilliant. I have seen arguments over funeral expenses and arrangements rip families apart. Not only are you taking stress off your loved ones and allowing them to grieve instead of arguing over choices you won’t care about (because your not there) but these account usually collect great interest… Way more than conventional banks provide these days.
Hope this may help someone considering a costly whole life plan…please don’t do it!!
And, I pray for your family all the time too! Xoxo
Shelly,
Thank you so much for your insightful comments. I had no idea that my whole life and universal life policies were not doing much more than putting money in the broker’s pocket. I have both of the above as well as term life insurance policies on both myself and my husband. The way it was explained to me by the agent was that I needed whole life and universal life to cover the funerals and any final expenses but I needed term life now so that if something happens my mortgage can be paid off. The broker talked me into getting higher whole life and universal life policies than term life policies, now I see why.
I truly believe that today everyone is so wrapped up in “the economic machine” that people don’t realize the simplicity of life in its basic form. You have your family to depend on and if something catastrophic happens you will lean on each other. My husband and I have both term life and whole life policies because of mortgages and bills. I truly admire you definition of life insurance and wish I had the courage and the time to invest in my state of heart and mind. I truly wish I could slow things down and meditate or sit in the woods in the morning, or even sit still and do nothing but listen to nature and appreciate God’s creation. Thank you for providing me with a different perspective on what matters and what does not.