Generational Wealth

I started writing this blog a few weeks ago, but our world got busy. To say the past few months have been a whirlwind would be an understatement! Now that we are back home and I’ve had time to dive back in, I find myself returning to these words with even more gratitude than I had when I first began writing them.

Sometimes the most meaningful lessons come from seasons we never would have chosen. Looking back on the past few months, I’ve realized they’ve quietly changed the way I think about what real wealth looks like.

If you know me, you know I’ve never been someone who chases expensive things. Give me a Saturday morning wandering through a thrift store (Wolfforth Goodwill is the best if you are local, trust me!) a good garage sale, or the satisfaction of finding exactly what I needed on Facebook Marketplace, and I’m perfectly content. (often to my husbands dismay when I find something maroon or burnt orange, IYKYK)

I’ve always believed that some of the best things in life simply can’t be bought.

But, even with all of that, I don’t know that I had ever stopped to consider what I would call generational wealth. Like many phrases we hear over time, I’d heard it countless times without ever really pausing to ask what it meant to me. This season gave those two words an entirely different meaning.

Over a month ago, our family had to move out of our home while it underwent remediation for collapsed air ducts that were literally making our family sick. Side note - if you have any underground duct system and have any questions PLEASE don’t hesitate to reach out. Getting them fixed changed our lives! Now, this obviously wasn’t a season that we would have chosen, especially with a busy three year-old and teething five-month old, but without hesitation my husband’s family opened their home to us.

There house was already pretty full. My husband’s grandmother also lives there and during the week my mother-in-law watched our nieces and nephews often. Most days, there were nine people filling the house with conversation, toys, meals, laughter, and yes.. more dishes than I thought possible!

At first, being under the stress of everything to do with our house, I wondered how we were all going to make it work. If you know me, you also know that I love a routine. I live for the comfortable steps of a morning and evening routine. I was honestly a little bit nervous about how both boys would respond.

But, instead, something unexpected happened. The longer we stayed, the more I realized I wasn’t simply living in a busy house…I was watching a family carry one another through ordinary life.

I remember one afternoon sitting down with a cup of coffee while my mother-in-law loaded up my three year-old with the older cousins for a trip to the pool. My littlest had just fallen asleep in his great-grandmother’s arms (I think she may have fallen asleep too, lol) and for the first time all day.I had a quiet moment to just breathe.

I remember thinking, this is what people mean when they say it takes a village! Not because everything was easy, but because no one expected us to carry it alone.

There was always someone willing to hold my sweet barnacle baby, someone throwing a ball or playing dinos with my oldest, someone starting dinner or cleaning up afterwards. The meals were bigger, the laundry piles were definitely higher, and the sink somehow never stayed empty for long, but we always had hands willing to help.

When it was finally time to move back home, the same love met us there. My in-laws, my husband’s aunt, and our boys’ Nana spent hours helping us clean after the remediation was complete. When we got home we quickly realized that the “deep clean” that we paid for had actually left our home dirtier than before, but not one stopped to complain about it. They rolled up their sleeves and tackled the job(s) alongside us. And Nana happily appointed herself the supervisor.

Looking back now, I don’t think the greatest gift we were given was a place to stay.

Our boys were given a season of everyday memories with their family that they never would have had otherwise. My husband and I were given the gift of being reminded that asking for help isn’t weakness and that offering help without keeping score is one of the purest expressions of love.

This seasons reminded me that our family doesn’t stand on its own. We are supported by people who show up with casseroles, with extra bedrooms, with tired arms wiling to rock a teething baby, and with hearts that never make us feel like a burden. I am forever grateful that our boys are being taught what generosity looks like, not simply by talking about it, but by living it.

Maybe that’s what generational wealth really is.

Not what we leave behind someday. but what we choose to pass down every day. A family that opens its doors without hesitation. Family and friends who are present and become part of your every day memories. Children who grow up knowing that when life takes an unexpected turn, there will always be people who make room at the table.

I truly don’t know if that kind of wealth can be measured. But, after this season, I am convinced it’s one of the richest inheritances we can ever give.