Making Ends Meet, Part 4

The Ship That Never Came In

So I made plans. Note “I” made plans. To go to Goshen and start a service centered around life/work planning. Remember Richard Bolles? He had returned to Evanston to give a workshop and we got together on the shore of Lake Michigan. I wanted to share my plan. He said it was not good, too much risk. Interest rates were at record high. Did I listen to the job search/career planning guru? No.

Off we went to buy a house at 18% interest, raising money by asking people to donate to a nonprofit I started, with a small board that would support my vision. I went to the wealthiest business owners in the county and did so-so. I asked friends for donations and loans, proceeding to go into debt. The service I provided got some work but never enough to really make ends meet. This went on for a couple of years. I started doing menial jobs. Alice was working double shifts as a waitress at the Essenhaus. She carried the load. It was reminiscent of my mother carrying the load as I grew up. I cannot forget the time that Alice said, “You always try to do the things that people with money do.” Okay.

The following is a quote from a three page letter I wrote in March, 1990. It gives some reality to those days.

Commitment takes energy and most of my energy has been given to financial survival since we moved to Goshen. Without mortgage we are approximately $80,000 in debt. Always trying things. Needing more income than a regular job can produce. Not wanting a regular job. Dreaming. Scheming. Questions about my personal integrity. On rare occasions simply wanting to die. Fighting depression. Anxious about children. Embarrassed and angered that I can not seem to do what I set out to do. Nothing works. Afraid of bankruptcy and admitting failure. Keep trying and hoping. Tired, so tired of the struggle. I would like one evening to sit and read a book without the pressures of finances and projects related to finances.

The debt to friends and others in the community became a great burden. I could hardly walk the streets of Goshen without running into a person who had not loaned me money. My shoulders literally ached. It was depressing. I worked at landscaping jobs with the main task of commercial lawn mowing. One day I was on my knees in front of a Taco Bell cleaning the flower beds. Old acquaintances walked in for lunch. “Hey Golden, how you doin?” They were in suits and ties. I was embarrassed. I also took all-night office cleaning jobs where I would be getting home about the time that my neighbors were going out for a run. Nothing wrong with those jobs. They just reflected that my personal parachute must have had a hole in it.

One day I stopped to see June Yoder, a professor at the seminary. June and her husband, John, had loaned me money. As we talked June pulled a book off her shelf by David Augsburger, a Mennonite scholar and therapist. One page had a chart showing emotions including guilt and shame. As I read the section on shame I fell into deep weeping. It wasn’t guilt or other emotions but shame that burdened me. June suggested that we call a meeting of all those I was indebted to and talk through this situation. We did that and nearly 100% showed up. I shared, I cried, they listened. Not a one was concerned about the money I owed them. They cared for me. They let it go! I cried. I walked out of that meeting free of the shoulder ache. The burden had been lifted.

Making ends meet is an ongoing project. I still don’t understand money. I  continued to try things, little businesses that would finally bring my ship in. A real problem for me has been trying to be the lone ranger and not having all the skills needed to succeed. I am no longer trying. 

My biggest regret in my financial journey is the uncertainty the children and Alice lived through during their formative years. It would feel so good to be able to assist my children in a time of need. But it’s over; now I must rest from striving to make ends meet. 

My partner, Cinny Poppen, and I barely do that. Cinny has helped me to be steady with our funds. Together it works. The first to die will thrust the other into uncertain money matters. We have an ongoing discussion on which of us will lead the way.

I will go out never really mastering the reality of money. I continue to believe in those early years of communal life and the care of all with everything in common. That is not how life is at this point. The best we can do is keep on making ends meet and sharing as we are able with those whose ends never meet.

Come back next week for a story about David Olney, a Nashville singer/songwriter.