When my wife from Mexico first came to visit me in MN (as my girlfriend) she was surprised at how I lived because I told her I was poor. She said “how can you say you are poor?” You have a car, your apartment has lots of furniture and you eat at McDonalds regularly.
A few years after getting married, we went on a mission to India. She then said “I think I have sinned in thinking I was poor all my life. Maybe my house was tiny, but at least I didn’t sleep on the sidewalks like those families. Maybe, I had to eat beans and tortillas every day, but at least I never went hungry!”
Yep. I think it really helps that I grew up “poor” but never really knew it. I mean, I lived with my grandparents, who were basically subsistence farmers, and a single mom who worked secretarial jobs for very little. There was never much cash around the house. But my grandparents were actually very proud that they owned their own house, grew their own food, took care of themselves... and my mother would tell me all the time, “Clean your plate, don’t you know there are starving children in India/Africa/China/wherever that would be glad to have that??” It didn’t improve my appetite, but it definitely gave me a perspective on poverty. Never do I remember hearing any of them tell me would life would be like if only we had money. All they ever mentioned was what life would be like if we weren’t as fortunate as we are.