What wanting a bigger house really means

I had the pleasure of visiting my friend's new house yesterday. It was huge: four bedrooms, four bathrooms, walk-in closet, gorgeous kitchen, two fireplaces, yadda yadda yadda.

It was, in a word, fabbo.

I felt those old feelings creep up again -- I envisioned myself living there and thought it would make me happier. I saw myself cooking stew in the kitchen and drinking red wine. I saw my husband playing with the kids in front of the fireplace. I saw myself cuddling our children on the king-sized bed that actually looks a bit on the small side in their bedroom.

Then last night, my husband dropped a bit of a bomb: a part of our finances aren't doing well. Or not as well as we'd like. It was a bit scary.

So here's what I'm taking from all this: as long as I equate money with happiness, the universe will hold the money back. It will only be when I am fully aware, all the time, that money has nothing to do with happiness (I know! I know!), that the money will come easily. And I will be able to use it from a healthy, loving part of me, not a fearful part that thinks objects will somehow fill up the hole that my fears have dug out in my chest.

I was a bit in panic mode last night, but I'm not this morning. The sun is out despite a stern forecast for rain all day. Even better, corny as it sounds, the sun is out in my heart. I went to the grocery store and acted more frugally than I ever have. And it was kind of fun. And I had my 10-month-old sitting in the cart and smiling at me. Talk about an in-your-face reminder of how to live in the moment, how to be grateful just for life.

We'll be all right. We'll be all right.