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Some brokers speculate that our current economy will soon echo the Hee Haw tune of “gloom, despair, and agony on me.” Now that’s pretty close to a “weeping and gnashing of teeth,” but the TV song came from four guys wearing bibs, not Matthew 13 in the Bible.

Personally, I’m not much interested in overalls or an understanding of the stock market, but improving my financial status intrigues me. So, every now and then I count my pennies and pretend to walk with Wall Street giants.

Sadly, however, I have experienced being a little short on stature and cash. During those unfortunate days there were times when a frantic shaking didn’t make the piggy bank rattle … when my wallet felt thin … and when Julie maintained an unbelievably tight grip on the checkbook.

Over the years I encountered the empty-pocket syndrome more than once but not too often. When facing a lack of funds, I learned to pause, take a few deep breaths, and then forage for good fortune in the space below the dryer drum. But a handful of lint would always prompt me to pause philosophically. In those moments I couldn’t afford for both my savings and my ego to be destitute.

To avoid the “gloom, despair, and agony on me,” I constantly remind myself that “All that glisters is not gold.” At that point, the soul-searching begins when I implore, “Larry, settle down. Reach down deep. Dig deeper than your pockets. What do you have that money can’t buy?”

Now I don’t have what Julie has. Julie not only keeps the checkbook, but she has always qualified for the Good Looks and Charm Credit Card. Her calm, loving presence is an invaluable asset. Regrettably I don’t have that or her unlimited appeal. In comparison, I’m a bit impoverished.

So, what do I have? What “glisters” within and about me? The answer is simple. I have it, and I have an abundance of it. Even when my pockets are empty, I am the proud owner of pronoun opulence. In fact, I can’t live without it.

Let’s be honest, my day revolves around it. My “it” activities include but are not limited to:

I watch it.
I carry it.
I fix it.
I forget about it.
I pick it up.
I get over it.
I ignore it.
I sleep on it.
I count on it.
I let it be.

As you can imagine, there aren’t enough hours in the day, but I love it anyway. And, once upon a time when I was truly looking for it, the right girl just appeared on the parsonage porch. I actually met an “it girl” and married her. Did that ominously lead to “Deep, dark depression, excessive misery”? Absolutely not, and I’m thankful for it.

If all this sounds like a wonderful lifestyle, you ought to go for it too! Being full of it is a grand and rich adventure.