The Relativity of Simplicity

Ruby recently moved into her own room. Well, she had some help. But she's now in her own space.

Our experience with the other two girls was the sooner they were in their own room, the better we all slept.

As we moved her few things, namely, her small bassinet pack 'n play and her small bookshelf full of clothes, I was struck by how little there was to move. It took me no more than a few minutes. Granted, she's probably going to suffer from "third child syndrome," where she gets a lot less than her sisters did, just the bare minimum, but it's more intentional than that.

Ellie's first nursery had pictures on the walls, her name in big block letters, a painted changing table/dresser with matching cloth boxes for all her clothes. She had toys and a rocking chair. She had decorations and so many clothes that she grew out of many before she had a chance to wear them.

Ellie's room when she was born.

Hazel shared this room with Ellie while we lived in Fresno, so she also had a well thought-out nursery. Until we got to Guatemala. (I wrote about living with less as we prepared to move).

I don't know if I've gone into detail before, but one of the commitments that we make while serving with MCC is one of "Living Simply." (To see MCC's faith commitments and lifestyle expectations, go here.) Of course, it's a vague term that can be interpreted by many people in different ways. But the idea is there. We've committed to living simply. Reusing, recycling, not buying new things when the used version is just fine. Needs vs. wants. And of course, it's all relative.

When we first arrived to Guatemala, Hazel had no crib. She actually slept in closets and on the floor in a makeshift bed. This had more to do with lack of time to find one. We eventually got her a crib and it worked. But the girls' room was simple. No decorations. The quilt on Ellie's bed was inherited from past workers and pretty threadbare. And it definitely wasn't pink or matching anything in the room.

Our first night in Guatemala Hazel slept in this closet.

Did she care? NOPE. Did she notice? NOPE.

The girls now have bright colored blankets on their bed (but mismatched), and that was a big deal. Their room is decorated with their own artwork. It's simple and cozy.

There is an entire industry in the US that markets to families and babies. Bedrooms have to be painted and color coordinated. Babies need changing tables and swings and bouncers and curtains and their own special towels. There is so much "stuff" we can fill our rooms with that isn't necessary. It's the opposite of simple.

And so, as we were moving Ruby's stuff, I thought about how little it looks like she has. Her corner of the room holds her crib with a mosquito net and her bookshelf full of clothes. She has one shelf in the closet and a box of clothes for when she grows. That's it. The rest of the room serves as a second guest room, and holds our keyboard. And is our linen closet. And storage. I sit on the twin bed to nurse in the night, and it also functions as a changing area. This isn't a nursery worthy of Pinterest. Or even Facebook.

Ruby's corner.

But.

Then, I thought about how little people have here in Guatemala. We visit families of our partners where the entire family sleeps in one bed. Maybe two. There are indigenous customs where having an extra room or a guest room makes zero sense. You use what you have. People we interact with on a daily basis are crammed into a couple small rooms at home.

The day we moved Ruby I posted on Facebook that we were moving her. I felt content with the simplicity of her room, but couldn't help to think about the reaction others might have:

A baby with her own room? What does a 2 month old need with an entire room to herself? 

It's a privilege and a luxury to have enough space in our home to give Ruby her own space. Though it's simple in North American standards, to others, it would be space better used in more practical ways. I'm conscious of how much "stuff" the girls have, even here, how quickly we accumulate.

We make decisions about our home, our kitchen, where we eat, and what we buy through this lens of trying to live simply. But it's all relative. To many people in the States, we are living more simply than we would there, but to those around us every day, we live with more than they will ever have in their lifetimes. It's a fine balance, and I'm still learning how to live within the tension of different definitions of simplicity.

Note: If you are interested in understanding how food and consumption can be done more simply (and why, as Christians we should be good stewards of our resources), check out a few resources that MCC has, including 3 cookbooks. More-with-Less has the subtitle: Recipes and suggestions by Mennonites on how to eat better and consume less of the world's limited food resources. There's also a book by the same author, called "Living More with Less," that expands on many of the ideas that inspired the cookbook in 1976. I recommend them both, as well as my favorite cookbook: Simply in Season: Recipes that celebrate fresh, local foods.