I learned this when visiting several third-world countries. While there, I was privileged to visit some homes. Many of the homeowners were people who were receiving aid from various organizations. They proudly let me in and thanked me for visiting. As I looked around, I thought one thing: “These poor people have no couch.” Maybe a rickety table and a few wooden chairs, a dilapidated bookcase with a few knick knacks, and in some cases even a T.V. with rabbit ear antennas on top. But no comfy couch.  What true poverty.

I totally missed the fact that these people were now receiving clean water, healthy food, money for education, and medicine. This house just looks poor. I subconsciously Americanized them and their society with one sweeping glance of their house.

I remember one final home in Ecuador when my misconceptions about poverty finally sunk in. The house was like a tree house, with a ladder leading up to the shared bedroom. There were hammocks hanging from the ceilings, posters on the walls, books lining the bookcase, and a very happy family sharing the walls. Instead of thinking, “These poor people…” I thought, “How homey.”

Poverty does not mean a house is made up of hand-me-down furniture. Real poverty is hunger, sickness, and dehydration. When basic needs are met: food, shelter, medicine; that is when poverty is lifted.

We began our week by grocery shopping. It quickly became evident how tricky it would be to stick to such a cheap budget. We shopped at the cheap grocery store on the “other” side of town. I felt very out of my element as we wandered through the aisles, throwing cheap peanut butter, grisly meat, and seventeen-cent green bean cans into our cart.  This was not my usual upscale neighborhood grocery shopping experience.

Throughout the week, I learned that it is possible to live off of $21 a week in food. I ate three meals every day. But I never felt satisfied. I never felt like I had enough nutrients in my body. I felt lethargic and grumpy. Fresh produce was out of the question, so I had to content myself with our squeaky green beans. Drew commented that it sounded like mice in his mouth. Not so satisfying.

At the end of the week, we joined a group of friends for lunch. We stared at the menu, knowing there was nothing within the food stamp budget there. My stomach grumbled as I drooled over each selection, finally settling on an 8 oz burger. When we got our food, Drew got up to get some napkins and told me to go ahead and start eating. When he came back, the burger was half gone. Our friends stared in disbelief, asking him if he was starving me. We looked at each other, smiled, and responded, “Sort of…”

The truth is, I don’t know how people can live like this on a consistent basis. I only endured one week, and it was more than enough for me. My heart aches for the poor who are given such a small amount of food to live on. How are they expected to be a productive, contributing part of society if they are never properly nourished? How are they supposed to pull themselves out of a less than ideal situation if they’re constantly lethargic and malnourished? And the biggest question still haunts me; what am I going to do about it?

I recently released an album. 10-something songs that I had been working on for a good year. Shortly afterward I gave away most of my instruments. At the time I wasn’t really sure why I was doing it, I just felt like I had to. I had tracked the record, from start to finish, by myself, without letting anyone else in on the creative process. There’s nothing intrinsically wrong with being a lone wolf, and I respect the people who can do it, I’m just not wired that way. I guess I’ve always seen music, and life for that matter, as a community project. Long story short, I was spending more time with my stuff than I wanted to. So I gave it away. That’s really where the good part of this story starts.

I found out that giving my stuff away, putting my “treasure where my heart was,” if you will, had given it real value. The community of musicians that I live with has benefitted and we have been able to bless the people around us. The friends that I gave my gear away to use it a lot more than I do, and, honestly, they’re better musicians than I am anyway. It’s amazing to see how people really latch on to a culture of giving when someone starts the ball rolling. I guess you could say that I gave a guitar away and got a guitar player. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not about bribing people. It’s about blessing them.

That’s what it comes down to. Blessing people with what we have. It keeps things in perspective. If we don’t remind ourselves of what is meaningful we will lose sight of it. I had to get the stuff out of the way so I could see the people. This isn’t about me trying to be better or more selfless than anyone else. It’s about figuring out what matters and giving up the stuff that doesn’t. The funny thing about economics is that money really has no value by itself. The real value is in what you put the money into. I think the physical stuff we have is like that in general. It really doesn’t have any value until you’re willing to put it into something or someone else that does.

I challenge you to consider this as the holiday season is upon us. Maybe this year we should spend a little less money, stay out of debt, and give a little more of what we already have. Maybe it’s time to pass that family heirloom on or give that camera you never use to your nephew with the good eye. The stuff you have that you never use? Give it away. The stuff you have that you do use? Give it away. The stuff you love? Give it away. It’s time to give value to our possessions by investing them in something that lasts. It’s time we put our treasure into finding our heart.

You can check out Joel’s music here: http://joelmarchand.com/ and his other writings here: http://blog.joelmarchand.com/

Here’s your challenge: Invite whomever it is to share in your Thanksgiving feast. Then, send your story and a photo to us at submit@cyny.org! Once we’ve read your story, we’ll send you a gift in the mail just to say you’ve inspired us. Can’t wait to hear what happens!

Yet there’s no place he’d rather have dinner than The Soul Kitchen, a “pay-what-you-can” restaurant he and his wife Dorothea established in a former auto body shop near the Red Bank train station in central New Jersey… read more.

Clothe Your Neighbor is looking for a freelance designer to create our newest merchandise.  If interested, please email submit@cyny.org with your design ideas, resumes, portfolios, websites—anything you’ve got! It is helpful if you’ve designed for clothing before, but we aren’t counting anyone out.  The deadline to apply is October 28^th, so contact us soon! We look forward to hearing from you, artistic friends.

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